THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


GIFT  OF 
Dr.  Roy  Van  Wart 


BODY  AND  MIND: 


AN  INQUIRY  INTO  THEIR   CONNECTION  AND  MUTUAL 

INFLUENCE,  SPECIALLY  IN  REFERENCE  TO 

MENTAL  DISORDERS: 


AN   ENLARGED   AND    REVISED    EDITION. 


TO   WHICH    ARE   ADDED 


PSYCHOLOGICAL  ESSAYS. 


BY 

HENRY  MAUDSLEY,  M.  D., 

FELLOW  OF  THE   ROYAL   COLLEGE   OF   PHYSICIANS  ;     PROFESSOR   OP   MEDICAL 

JURISPRtTDENCE  IN   UNIVERSITY  COLLEGE,    LONDON,   ETC. 

AUTHOR  OF  "RESPONSIBILITY  IN  MENTAL  DISEASES;"   "PHYSIOLOGY  AND 

PATHOLOGY  OF  THE  MIND,"   ETC. 


NEW   YORK: 
D.    APPLETON    AND    COMPANY, 

1,    3,     AND    5    BOND    STJKEET. 
1890. 


PEEFACE  TO  THE  SECOND  EDITION. 


The  first  three  Lectures,  on  Body  and  Mind,  and 
the  last  two  Essays,  in  this  volume,  appeared  in  the 
first  edition.  The  Lecture  or  Address  on  Conscience 
and  Organization,  and  the  Essays  on  Hamlet  and 
Swedenborg,  are  additions.  Nearly  half  the  book, 
therefore,  consists  of  matter  which  was  not  contained 
in  the  first  edition.  Under  these  circumstances,  a 
slight  addition  has  been  made  to  the  title-page,  in 
order  to  indicate,  so  far  as  possible,  the  character  of 
the  new  matter  which  has  been  added. 

June  1,  1873. 


fiO.'^P.'^fi 


PEEFACE  TO  THE  EIKST  EDITIOK 


The  three  lectures  forming  the  first  part  of  this 
volume  were  delivered  before  the  Royal  College  of 
Physicians  of  London,  to  which  I  had  the  honor  of 
being  appointed  Gulstonian  Lecturer  for  this  year; 
the  latter  part  consists  of  two  articles  which,  having 
appeared  elsewhere,  are  reprinted  here  as  presenting  a 
completer  view  of  some  points  that  are  only  touched 
upon  in  the  lectures ;  and  the  general  plan  of  the 
whole,  as  thus  constituted,  may  be  described  as  being 
to  bring  man,  both  in  his  physical  and  mental  rela- 
tions, as  much  as  possible  within  the  scope  of  scientific 
inquiry. 

The  first  lecture  is  devoted  to  a  general  survey  oi 
the  Physiology  of  Mind — to  an  exposition  of  the  phys- 
ical conditions  of  mental  function  in  health.  In  the 
second  lecture  are  sketched  the  features  of  some  forms 
of  degeneracy  of  mind,  as  exhibited  in  morbid  varieties 
of  the  human  kind,  with  the  purpose  of  bringing 
prominently  into   notice   the    operation   of  physical 


Vi  PREFACE. 

causes  from  generation  to  generation,  and  the  rela- 
tionship of  mental  to  other  disorders  of  the  nervous 
system.  In  the  thii'd  lecture,  which  contains  a  gen- 
eral survey  of  the  pathology  of  mind,  are  displayed 
the  relations  of  morbid  states  of  the  body  to  disor- 
dered mental  function.  I  would  fain  believe  the  gen- 
eral result  to  be  a  well-warranted  conclusion  that, 
whatever  theories  may  be  held  concerning  mind  and 
the  best  method  of  its  study,  it  is  vain  to  expect,  and 
a  folly  to  attempt,  to  rear  a  stable  fabric  of  mental 
science,  without  taking  faithful  account  of  physiologi- 
cal and  pathological  inquiries  into  its  j^henomena. 

In  the  criticism  of  the  "  Limits  of  Philosophical 
Inquiry,"  which  follows  the  lectures,  will  be  found 
reasons  why  no  attempt  has  been  made  to  discuss  the 
bearing  of  the  views  broached  in  them  on  any  system 
of  philosophy.  iN'either  materialism  nor  spiritualism 
are  scientific  terms,  and  one  need  have  no  concern 
with  them  in  a  scientific  inquiry,  which,  if  it  be  true 
to  its  spirit,  is  bound  to  have  regard  only  to  what  lies 
within  its  powers  and  to  the  truth  of  its  results.  It 
would  seem  to  be  full  time  that  vague  and  barren 
disputations  concerning  materialism  and  spiritualism 
should  end,  and  that,  instead  of  continuing  such  fruit- 
less and  unprofitable  discussion,  men  should  apply 
themselves  diligently  to  discover,  by  direct  interroga- 
tion of  Xature,  how  much  matter  can  do  without  spir- 
itual help.     Let  each  investigator  pursue  the  method 


PREFACE.  vii 

of  research  which  most  suits  the  bent  of  his  genius, 
and  here,  as  in  other  departments  of  science,  let  each 
system  be  judged  by  its  fruits,  which  cannot  fail  in 
the  end  to  be  the  best  sponsors  and  sureties  for  its 
truth.  But  the  physiological  inquirer  into  mind  may, 
if  he  care  to  do  so,  justly  protest  against  the  easy  con- 
fidence with  which  some  metaphysical  psychologists 
disdain  physiological  inquiry,  and  ignore  its  results, 
without  ever  having  been  at  the  pains  to  make  them- 
selves acquainted  with  what  these  results  are,  and 
with  the  steps  by  which  they  have  been  reached.  Let 
theory  be  what  it  may,  there  can  be  no  just  question 
of  the  duty  of  observing  faithfully  all  the  instances 
which  mental  phenomena  offer  for  inductive  inquiry, 
and  of  striving  to  realize  the  entirely  new  aspect 
which  an  exact  study  of  the  physiology  of  the  nervous 
system  gives  to  many  problems  of  mental  science. 
One  reflection  cannot  fail  to  occur  forcibly  to  those 
who  have  pursued  this  study,  namely,  that  it  would 
have  been  well  could  the  physiological  inquirer,  after 
rising  step  by  step  from  the  investigation  of  life  in  its 
lowest  forms  to  that  of  its  highest  and  most  complex 
manifestations,  have  entered  upon  his  investigations 
of  mind  without  being  hampered  by  any  philosophi- 
cal theories  concerning  it.  The  very  terms  of  met- 
aphysical psychology  have,  instead  of  helping,  op 
pressed  and  hindered  him  to  an  extent  which  it  is  im- 
possible to  measure:  they  have  been   hobgoblins  tc 


^ii  PREFACE. 

frighten  him  from  entering  on  his  path  of  inquiry, 
phantoms  to  lead  him  astray  at  every  turn  after  he 
has  entered  upon  it,  deceivers  lurking  to  betray  him 
under  the  guise  of  seeming  friends  tendering  help. 
Let  him  take  all  the  pains  in  the  world,  he  cannot  ex- 
press adequately  and  exactly  what  he  would — neither 
more  nor  less — ^for  he  must  use  words  which  have  al- 
ready meanings  of  a  metaphysical  kind  attached  to 
them,  and  which,  when  used,  are  therefore  for  him 
more  or  less  a  misinterpretation.  He  is  thus  forced 
into  an  apparent  encroachment  on  questions  which  he 
does  not  in  the  least  degree  wish  to  meddle  with,  and 
provokes  an  antagonism  without  ever  designing  it ; 
and  so  one  cannot  but  think  it  would  have  been  well 
if  he  could  have  had  his  own  words  exactly  fitting  his 
facts,  and  free  from  the  vagueness  and  ambiguity  of  a 
former  metaphysical  use. 

The  article  on  the  "  Theory  of  Yitality,"  which  ap- 
peared in  1863,  is  now  reprinted,  with  a  few,  mainly 
verbal,  alterations.  The  aspect  of  some  of  the  ques- 
tions discussed  in  it  has  been  somewhat  changed  by 
the  progress  of  inquiry  and  thought  since  that  time, 
but  it  appears  to  the  Author  that,  great  as  discussion 
has  been,  there  are  yet  considerations  respecting  vitali- 
ty that  have  not  been  duly  weighed.  ^Yhether  living 
matter  was  formed  originally,  or  is  now  being  formed, 
from  non-living  matter,  by  the  operation  of  physical 
causes  and  natural  laws,  are  questions  whicli,  notwith- 


PREFACE.  ix 

standing  the  lively  and  vigorous  handling  which  they 
have  had,  are  far  from  being  settled.  Exact  experi- 
ment can  alone  put  an  end  to  this  dispute :  the  one 
conclusive  experiment,  indeed,  in  proof  of  the  origin 
of  living  from  dead  matter,  will  be  to  make  life. 
Meanwhile,  as  the  subject  is  still  in  the  region  of  dis- 
cussion, it  is  permissible  to  set  forth  the  reflections 
which  the  facts  seem  to  warrant,  and  to  endeavor  to 
indicate  the  direction  of  scientific  development  which 
seems  to  be  foretokened  by,  or  to  exist  potentially  in, 
tlie  knowledge  which  we  have  thus  far  acquired.  This 
much  may  be  said :  that  those  who  oppose  the  doc- 
trine of  so-called  spontaneous  generation,  not  on  the 
ground  of  the  absence  of  conclusive  evidence  of  its 
occurrence,  which  they  might  justly  do,  but  on  the 
ground  of  what  they  consider  special  characteristics 
of  living  matter,  would  do  well  to  look  with  more  in- 
sight into  the  phenomena  of  non-living  N'ature,  and  to 
consider  more  deeply  what  they  see,  in  order  to  dis- 
cover whether  the  characteristic  properties  of  life 
are  quite  so  special  and  exclusive  as  they  imagine 
them  to  be.  Having  done  that,  they  might  go  on  to 
consider  whether,  even  if  their  premises  were  grant- 
ed, any  conclusion  regarding  the  mode  of  origin  of  life 
would  legitimately  follow;  whether  in  fact  it  would 
not  be  entirely  gratuitous  and  unwarrantable  to  con- 
clude thence  the  impossibility  of  the  origin  of  living 
matter  from  non-living  matter.     The  etymological  im- 


X  PREFACE. 

port  of  the  words  physics  and  physiology  is  notably 
the  same ;  and  it  may  be  that,  as  has  been  suggested, 
in  the  difference  of  their  application  lies  a  hidden 
irony  at  the  assumption  on  which  the  division  is 
grounded. 

9,  Hanoter  Square,  W. 
November  5,  1870 


CONTEXTS 


PART  I. 
LECTURES. 


BODY   AND   MIND: 

PAQH 

I. — On   the   Physical    Condition  of  Mental   Function 

IN  Health 41 

II. — On  Certain  Forms  of  Degeneracy  of  Mind,  their 
Causation,  and  their  Relations  to  other  Dis- 
orders op  the  Nervous  System 41 

III. — On  the  Relations  of  Morbid  Bodily  Spates  to  dis- 
ordered Mental  Functions '70 

IV. — COKSCIENCE   and   ORGANIZATION 98 


PART  II. 
ESSAYS. 

I. — Hamlet 123 

II — Emanuel  Swedenkorg 163 

III — The  Theory  of  Vitality 218 

[V. — The  Limits  of  Philosophical  Inquiry 254 


PART  I. 
LECTURES 


BODY   AND  MIND: 

I.— ON  THE  PHYSICAL  CONDITION  OF  MENTAL  FUITG- 
TION  IN  HEALTH. 

ri.— ON  CEETAIN  FORMS  OP  DEGENERACY  OF  MIND, 
THEIR  CAUSATION,  AND  THEIR  RELATIONS  TO 
OTHER  DISORDERS  OF  THE  NERVOUS  cYSTEM. 

III.— ON  THE  RELATIONS  OF  MORBID    BODILY   riTATES 
TO  DISORDERED  MENTAL  FUNCTIONfc 

rV.-CONSCIENCE  AND  ORGANIZATION. 


BODY    AI^D    MIJ^^D: 

AN  INQUIEY  INTO  THEIE  CONNECTION  AND 
UTUxVL    INFLUENCE,    SPECIALLY    IN    EEFEEENCL    TO 
MENTAL  DISOEDEES. 


LECTURE   I. 

Gentlemen  :  The  relations  of  mind  and  body  in  health 
and  in  disease  I  have  chosen  as  the  subject  of  these  lectures, 
not  with  the  hope  of  doing  full  justice  to  so  complex  and 
diflBcult  an  inquiry,  but  because  it  has  for  some  time  been 
my  special  work,  and  there  was  no  other  subject  on  which  I 
should  have  felt  myself  equally  justified  in  addressing  you. 
ISo  one  can  be  more  deeply  sensible  than  I  am  how  little 
exact  our  knowledge  is  of  the  bodily  conditions  of  mental 
functions,  and  how  much  of  that  which  we  think  we  know 
is  vague,  uncertain,  and  fluctuating.  But  the  time  has  come 
when  the  immediate  business  which  lies  before  any  one  who 
would  advance  our  knowledge  of  mind  unquestionably  is  a 
close  and  searching  scrutiny  of  the  bodily  conditions  of  its 
manifestations  in  health  and  disease.  It  is  most  necessary 
now  to  make  use  of  the  results  of  the  study  of  mind  in 
health  to  light  and  guide  our  researches  into  its  morbid  phe- 
nomena, and  in  like  manner  to  bring  the  instructive  in- 
stances presented  by  unsound  mind  to  bear  upon  the  inter- 
pretation of  its  healthy  functions.  The  physiology  and  the 
pathology  of  mind  are  two  branches  of  one  science ;  and  he 


12  BODY  AND  MIND 

who  studies  the  one  must,  if  he  would  work  wisely  and  well, 
study  the  other  also.  My  aim  will  he  to  promote  the  recon- 
ciliation between  them,  and  in  doing  so  I  shall  embrace  the 
occasion,  whenever  it  offt;rs  itself,  to  indicate  the  principles 
which  should  guide  our  efforts  for  what  must  always  be  the 
highest  object  of  medical  science  and  art — the  production 
and  preservation  of  a  sound  mind  in  a  sound  body.  Act- 
ually to  accomplish  much  of  this  purpose  will  not  lie  in 
my  power,  but  I  may  bring  together  fragmentary  observa- 
tions, point  out  the  bearing  of  them  on  one  another  and  on 
received  opinions,  thus  unfold  their  meaning,  and  murk 
broadly  the  lines  which  future  research  must  take. 

Within  the  memory  of  men  now  living  insanity  was  such 
a  special  study,  and  its  treatment  such  a  special  art,  that  it 
stood  quite  aloof  from  general  medicine  in  a  mysterious  and 
mischievous  isolation ;  owing  little  or  nothing  to  the  results 
of  progress  in  other  branches  of  medicine,  and  contributing 
nothing  to  their  progress.  The  reason  of  this  it  is  not  hard 
to  discover.  The  habit  of  viewing  mind  as  an  intangible 
entity  or  incorporeal  essence,  which  science  inherited  from 
theology,  prevented  men  from  subjecting  its  phenomena  to 
the  same  method  of  investigation  as  other  natural  phenom- 
ena; its  disorders  were  thought  to  be  an  incomprehensible 
affliction  and,  in  accordance  with  the  theological  notion,  due 
to  the  presence  of  an  evil  spirit  in  the  sufferer,  or  to  the  en- 
slavement of  the  soul  by  sin,  or  to  any  thing  but  their  true 
cause — bodily  disease.  Consequently,  the  treatment  of  the 
insane  was  not  in  the  hands  of  intelligent  physicians,  who 
aimed  to  apply  the  resources  of  medicine  to  the  alleviation 
or  cure  of  bodily  illness,  but  was  given  up  to  coarse  and  ig- 
norant jailers,  whose  savage  cruelties  will  for  all  time  to 
come  be  a  great  and  ugl)^  blot  upon  the  enlightenment  of  the 
age  which  tolerated  them. 

Matters  are  happily  changed  now.  On  all  hands  it  is  ad- 
mitted that  the  manifestations  of  mind  take  place  through 
the  nervous  system  ,  and  that  its  derangements  are  the  result 


ORGAN  AND  FUNCTION.  13 

Df  nervous  disease,  amenable  to  the  same  method  of  investi- 
gation as  other  nervous  diseases.  Insanity  has  accordingly 
become  a  strictly  medical  study,  and  its  treatment  a  branch 
of  medical  practice.  Still,  it  is  all  too  true  that,  notwith- 
standing we  know  much,  and  are  day  by  day  learning  more, 
of  the  physiology  of  the  nervous  system,  we  are  only  on  the 
tlireshold  of  the  study  of  it  as  an  instrument  subserving  men- 
tal function.  We  know  little  more  positively  than  that  it 
has  such  function ;  we  knoAV  nothing  whatever  of  the  physics 
and  of  the  chemistry  of  thought.  The  conception  of  mind  as  a 
mysterious  entity,  ditferent  essentially  from,  and  vastly  supe- 
rior to,  the  body  which  it  inhabits  and  uses  as  its  earthly  tene- 
ment, but  from  which  its  noblest  aspirations  are  thought  to 
be  to  got  free,  still  works  openly  or  in  a  latent  way  to  ob- 
struct the  study  of  its  functions  by  the  methods  of  physical 
research.  Without  speculating  at  all  concerning  the  nature 
of  mind — which,  let  me  distinctly  declare  at  the  outset,  is  a 
question  which  science  cannot  touch,  and  I  do  not  dream  of 
attempting  to  touch — I  do  not  shrink  from  saying  that  we 
shall  make  no  progress  toward  a  mental  science  if  we  begin 
by  depreciating  the  body:  not  by  disdaining  it,  as  metaphy- 
sicians, religious  ascetics,  and  maniacs  have  done,  but  by 
laboring  in  an  earnest  and  inquiring  spirit  to  understand 
it,  shall  we  make  any  step  forward;  and  when  we  have 
fully  comprehended  its  functions,  when  we  know  how  to 
estimate  fitly  this  highest,  most  complex,  and  wonderful 
achievement  of  organized  skill,  it  will  be  quite  time,  if 
there  be  then  the  inclination,  to  look  down  upon  it  with 
contempt. 

The  truth  is,  that  in  inquiries  concerning  mind,  as  was 
once  the  case  in  speculations  concerning  other  natural  phe- 
nomena of  forces,  it  has  been  the  practice  to  begin  where  the 
inquiry  should  have  ended.  Just  as  the  laws  of  physical  ac- 
tions were  evoked  out  of  the  depths  of  human  consciousness, 
aud  the  relations  of  bodies  to  one  another  attributed  to  sym- 
pathies and  antipathies,  attractions  and  abhorrences,  instead 


14  BODY  AND  MIND. 

of  being  acquired  bj  patient  observation  and  careful  generaliza- 
tion, so  has  a  fabric  of  mental  philosophy  been  reared  on  the 
doubtful  revelations  of  self-consciousness,  in  entu-e  disregard 
of  the  more  tedious  and  less  attractive  duty  of  observation 
of  facts,  and  induction  from  them.  Surely  it  is  time  we 
put  seriously  to  ourselves  the  question  whether  the  inductive 
method,  which  has  proved  its  worth  by  its  abundant  fruit- 
fulness  wherever  it  has  been  faithfully  applied,  should  not 
be  as  rigidly  used  in  the  investigation  of  mind  as  in  the 
investigation  of  other  natural  phenomena.  If  so,  we  ought 
certainly  to  begin  our  inquiry  with  the  observation  of  the 
simplest  instances — with  its  physiological  manifestations  in 
animals,  in  children,  in  idiots,  in  savages,  mounting  by  de- 
grees to  the  highest  and  most  recondite  facts  of  consciousness, 
the  interpretation  or  the  misinterpretation  of  which  consti- 
tutes what  has  hitherto  claimed  to  be  mental  philosophy.  The 
inductions  which  we  get  by  observing  the  simple  may  be  used 
with  success  to  disentangle  the  phenomena  of  the  complex ; 
but  the  endeavor  to  apply  the  complex  and  obscure  to  the 
interpretation  of  the  simple  is  sure  to  end  in  confusion  and 
error.  The  higher  mental  faculties  are  formed  by  evolution 
from  the  more  simple  and  elementary,  just  as  the  more  spe- 
cial and  complex  structure  proceeds  from  the  more  simple  and 
general ;  and  in  the  one  case  as  in  the  other  we  must,  if 
we  would  truly  learn,  follow  the  order  of  development.  Not 
that  it  is  within  my  present  purpose  to  trace  the  plan  of 
development  of  our  mental  faculties,  but  the  facts  and  argu- 
ments which  I  shall  bring  forward  will  prove  how  vain 
and  futile  it  is  to  strive  to  rear  a  sound  fabric  of  mental  sci- 
ence on  any  other  foundation. 

To  begin  the  study  of  mind,  then,  with  the  observation 
of  its  humblest  bodily  manifestations'  is  a  strictly  scientific 
method.  When  we  come  to  inquire  what  these  are,  it  is  far 
from  easy  to  fix  the  point  at  which  mental  function  begins. 
Without  doubt  most  of  the  actions  of  man,  and  many  of 
those  of  the  higher  animals,  do  evince  the  operation  of  mind, 


REFLEX  ACTIOX.  16 

but  whereabouts  in  the  animal  kingdom  it  first  appears,  and 
what  part  it  has  in  the  lower  nerve-functions  of  man,  are 
questions  not  easilj  answered.  The  more  closely  the  matter 
is  looked  into,  the  more  clearly  it  appears  that  we  habitually 
embrace  in  our  conception  of  mind  different  nervous  func- 
tions, some  of  which  proceed  from  different  nerve-centres, 
and  the  more  necessary  it  becomes  to  analyze  these  functions, 
to  separate  the  more  simple  and  elementary,  and  to  discover 
in  the  concrete  as  much  as  possible  of  the  meaning  of  the 
abstraction.  Is  the  brain  the  exclusive  organ  of  mind?  If 
it  be  so,  to  what  category  of  functions  shall  we  refer  the  re- 
flex acts  of  the  spinal  cord,  which  take  place  independently 
of  the  brain,  and  which  often  achieve  as  definite  an  end,  and 
seem  to  display  as  intelligent  an  aim,  as  any  conscious  act  of 
volition  ?  It  needs  not  to  illustrate  in  detail  the  nature  and 
extent  of  reflex  action,  which  is  familiar  enough,  but  I  may 
select  a  striking  example  in  order  to  serve  as  a  text  for  the 
reflections  which  I  wish  to  bring  forward.  One  simple  fact, 
rightly  understood  and  truly  interpreted,  will  teach  as  much 
as  a  thousand  facts  of  the  same  kind,  but  the  thousand  must 
have  been  previously  observed  in  order  to  understand  truly 
the  one ;  for  it  is  certainly  true  that,  to  apprehend  the  full 
meaning  of  common  things,  it  is  necessary  to  study  a  great 
many  uncommon  things.  This,  however,  has  been  done  in 
this  instance  by  the  distinguished  physiologists  whose  labors 
have  fixed  on  a  tolerably  firm  basis  the  doctrine  of  reflex 
action ;  we  may,  therefore,  take,  as  our  starting-point,  the 
accepted  results  of  their  labors. 

It  is  well  known  that,  if  the  hind-foot  of  a  frog  that  haa 
had  its  head  cut  off  be  pinched,  it  is  withdi  awn  from  the  ir- 
ritation. The  stimulus  to  the  afferent  nerve  reaches  the  gray 
matter  of  the  spinal  cord,  and  sets  free  a  force  which  excites 
to  action  the  corresponding  motor  nerves  of  the  same  side. 
"When  the  foot  is  pinched  more  strongly,  the  force  liberated 
by  the  stimulus  passes  across  the  cord  to  the  motor  nerves 
of  the  opposite  side,  and  there  is  a  simultaneous  withdrawal 


16  BODY  AND  MIXD. 

of  both  limbs ;  and,  if  the  excitation  be  stronger  still,  there 
is  a  wider  irradiation  of  the  effects  of  the  stimulus  in  the 
gray  matter,  and  a  movement  of  all  four  limbs  follows,  the 
frog  jumping  awaj.  These  movements  of  the  decapitated 
frog,  which  it  is  plain  effect  the  definite  purpose  of  getting  it 
out  of  the  way  of  harm,  we  believe  to  be  analogous  to  the 
violent  coughing  by  which  food  that  has  gone  the  wrong  way 
is  expelled  from  the  human  larynx,  or  to  the  vomiting  by 
which  offending  matter  is  ejected  from  the  stomach.  Inde- 
pendently of  consciousness  and  of  will,  an  organism  plainly 
has  the  power — call  it  intelligent  or  call  it  what  we  will — of 
feeling  and  eschewing  what  is  hurtful  to  it,  as  well  as  of  feel- 
ing and  ensuing  what  is  beneficial  to  it. 

But  the  experiment  on  the  frog  may  be  made  more  striking 
and  instructive.  Touch  with  acetic  acid  the  thigh  of  a  de- 
capitated frog  over  the  internal  condyle,  and  the  animal  rubs 
it  off  with  the  dorsal  surface  of  the  foot  of  the  same  side ; 
cut  off  the  foot,  and  apply  the  acid  to  the  same  spot,  and  the 
animal  tries  to  get  at  it  again  with  its  foot,  but,  of  course^ 
having  lost  it,  cannot.  After  some  fruitless  efforts,  therefore, 
it  gives  up  trying  in  that  way,  seems  restless,  as  though,  says 
Pfluger,  it  was  seeking  some  other  way;  and  at  last  it  makes 
use  of  the  foot  of  the  other  leg,  and  succeeds  in  rubbing  off 
the  acid.  I'J'otably  we  have  here  not  merely  contractions  of 
muscles,  but  combined  and  harmonized  contractions  in  due 
sequence  for  a  special  purpose.  There  are  actions  that  have 
all  the  appearance  of  being  guided  by  intelligence  and  insti- 
gated by  will  in  an  animal  the  recognized  organ  of  whose  in- 
telligence and  will  has  been  removed. 

What  are  we  to  say  in  explanation  of  movements  that  have 
such  a  look  of  adaptation?  Are  they  mental,  or  are  they 
only  physical?  If  they  are  mental,  it  is  plain  that  we  must 
much  enlarge  and  modify  our  conception  of  mind,  and  of  the 
Beat  of  mind ;  if  physical,  it  is  plain  that  we  must  subtract 
from  mind  functions  that  are  essential  to  its  full  function,  and 
properties  that  are  the  very  foundations  of  its  development 


PURPOSIVE  ACTS.  17 

in  the  higher  centres.  Some  eminent  physiologists  now 
maintain,  on  tbe  strength  of  these  experiments,  that  the  ac- 
cepted doctrine  of  reflex  action  is  quite  untenable,  and  that 
the  spinal  cord  is  really  endowed  with  sensation  and  volition ; 
and  certainly  these  adapted  actions  seem  to  give  us  all  the 
signs  of  being  felt  and  willed,  except  telling  us  that  they  are 
80.  Before  accepting,  however,  this  explanation  of  the  ob- 
scure by  something  more  obscure  still,  it  were  w^ell  to  realize 
distinctly  how  dangerous  a  practice  it  usually  is  to  apply  de- 
ductively to  the  interpretation  of  simple  phenomena  ideas 
pertaining  to  the  more  complex,  and  how  essential  a  princi- 
ple of  the  method  of  induction  it  is  to  follow  the  order  of 
evolution,  and  to  ascend  from  the  interpretation  of  the  sim- 
ple to  that  of  the  complex.  The  explanation  savors  of  the 
old  and  evil  tendency  \A'hich  has  done  so  much  harm  in  phi- 
losophy, the  tendency  to  explain  the  facts  of  Nature  by  what 
we  feel  to  go  on  in  our  minds  ;  because  we  know  that  most  of 
our  actions  take  place  consciously  and  voluntarily,  we  can  hard- 
ly help  thinking  that  it  must  be  the  same  in  the  frog.  Might 
we  not,  however,  as  well  suppose  and  hold  that  positive  at- 
tracts negative  and  repels  positive  electricity  consciously  and 
voluntarily,  or  that  in  the  double  decomposition  of  chemical 
salts  one  acid  chooses  voluntarily  the  other  base  ?  It  is  most 
necessary  to  be  on  our  guard  against  the  danger  of  misapply- 
ing ideas  derived  from  internal  observation  of  the  functions 
of  mind-centres  to  the  interpretation  of  the  functions  of 
lower  nerve-centres,  and  so  of  misinterpreting  them.  As- 
suredly we  have  sad  experience  enough  to  warn  us  against 
involving  the  latter  in  the  metaphysical  haze  wliich  still 
hangs  over  the  functions  of  the  supreme  centres. 

All  the  conclusion  which  the  facts  warrant  is  that  actions 
for  a  definite  end,  having  indeed  the  semblance  of  predesign- 
ing  consciousness  and  will,  may  be  quite  unconscious  and  auto- 
matic ;  that  the  movements  of  the  decapitated  frog,  adapted 
as  they  are  to  secure  its  well-being,  are  no  more  evidence  of 
intelligence  and  will  than  are  the  movements  of  coughing, 


18  BODY  AND   MIXD. 

Bneezing,  and  swallowing  in  man.  In  the  constitution  of  tlie 
animal's  spinal  cord  are  implanted  the  faculties  of  such  move- 
ments for  self-preservation,  which  it  has  inherited  as  a  part 
of  its  nature,  and  without  which  it  could  hardly  live  a  day; 
accordingly  it  acts  necessarily  and  blindly ;  though  it  has  lost 
its  foot,  it  endeavors  vainly  to  act  as  if  its  foot  was  still  there, 
and  only  when  the  irritation  continues  unaffected  by  its  futile 
efforts  makes,  in  answer  to  it,  those  further  reflex  movements 
which  are  the  physiological  sequences  of  the  unsuccessful 
movements:  it  supplements  one  series  of  reflex  actions  by 
another.*  But,  although  these  purposive  movements  are  not 
evidence  of  intelligence  and  volition  in  the  spinal  cord,  it  is 
another  question  whether  they  do  not  evince  the  same  physi- 
ological properties  and  the  operation  of  the  same  laws  of 
evolution  as  govern  the  development  of  intelligence  and  will 
in  the  higher  centres. 

I  have  taken  the  experiment  on  the  frog  to  exemplify  the 
proposition  that  designed  actions  may  be  unconscious  and 
automatic,  because  the  phenomena  are  more  simple  in  it  than 
in  man,  and  more  easy  therefore  to  be  understood ;  but  the 
proposition  is  equally  true  of  his  spinal  cord.  In  its  case, 
however,  we  have  to  bear  in  mind  that  faculties  are  not  in- 
nate to  the  same  degree  and  extent  as  in  the  lower  animals, 
but  have  to  be  acquired  by  education — to  be  organized,  in 
fact,  after  birth.  It  must  be  taught,  just  as  the  brain  must, 
before  it  can  perform  its  functions  as  an  organ  of  animal  life ; 
and,  being  much  more  under  the  control  of  the  more  highly- 
developed  brain,  feeling  and  volition  commonly  mingle  largely 
in  its  functions,  and  its  independent  action  cannot  be  so 
plainly  exhibited.  But,  when  its  motor  centres  have  been 
taught,  when  they  have  gained  by  education  the  power  of 
executing  what  are  called  secondary  automatic  acts,  it  is  cer- 

*  Wisely  or  unwisely,  as  the  case  may  be  ;  for  reflex  movements  which 
commonly  effect  a  useful  end  may,  under  the  changed  circumstances  of  dis- 
ease, do  great  mischief,  becoming  even  the  occasion  of  violent  suffering 
and  of  a  mo?t  painful  death. 


SECONDARY  AUTOMATIC  ACTS.  19 

tain  that  it  can  and  does  habitually  execute  them  indepen- 
dently of  consciousness  and  of  will.  They  become  as  purely 
automatic  as  are  the  primitive  reflex  acts  of  the  frog.  To  the 
statement,  then,  that  actions  bearing  the  semblance  of  design 
may  be  unconscious  and  automatic  we  have  now  to  add  a 
second  and  most  weighty  proposition — namely,  that  acts  con- 
sciously designed  at  first  may,  by  repetition,  become  uncon- 
scious and  automatic,  the  faculties  of  them  being  organized 
in  the  constitution  of  the  nerve-centres,  and  they  being  then 
performed  as  reflex  eff*ects  of  an  external  stimulus.  This  law, 
by  which  the  education  of  the  spinal  cord  takes  place,  is,  as 
we  shall  hereafter  see,  a  most  important  law  in  the  develop- 
ment of  the  higher  nerve-centres. 

Let  us  now  go  a  step  further.  The  automatic  acts,  whether 
primary  or  secondary,  in  the  frog  or  in  the  man,  which  are 
excited  by  the  suitable  external  stimulus,  may  also  be  excited 
by  an  act  of  will,  by  an  impulse  coming  downward  from  the 
brain.  When  this  happens,  it  should  be  clearly  apprehended 
that  the  immediate  agency  of  the  movements  is  the  same ;  it 
is  in  the  motor  centres  of  the  spinal  cord ;  the  will  does  not 
and  cannot  act  upon  the  nerve-fibres  of  each  muscle  individu- 
ally, but  simply  gives  the  order  which  sets  in  motion  the  or- 
ganized machinery  of  the  movements  in  the  proper  motor 
centres.  This  is  a  consideration  of  the  utmost  importance, 
for  it  exhibits  how  great  a  part  of  our  voluntary  acts  is  really 
the  automatic  action  of  the  spinal  cord.  The  same  move- 
ments are  eflfected  by  the  same  agency  in  answer  to  diff"erent 
stimuli — in  the  one  case  to  an  external  stimulus,  in  the  other 
case  to  an  impulse  of  will ;  and  in  both  cases  the  mind  is  alike 
ignorant  of  the  immediate  agency  by  which  they  are  done. 
But  while  the  automatic  acts  take  place  independently  of 
will,  the  will  is  absolutely  dependent  on  the  organized  expe- 
rience in  the  cord  for  the  accomplishment  of  its  acts;  with- 
out this  it  would  be  impotent  to  do  a  voluntary  act.  When, 
therefore,  we  have  taken  out  of  a  voluntary  act  the  large 
part  which  is  due  to  the  automatic  agency  of  the  motor  cen- 


20  BODr    A.ND   MIXD. 

tres,  it  clearly  appears  that  we  have  subtracted  no  small 
proportion  from  what  we  are  in  the  habit  of  comprising 
vaguely  under  mind.  We  perceive,  indeed,  how  indispensa- 
ble an  exact  and  faithful  observation  of  the  functions  of  the 
spinal  cord  is  to  a  true  physiological  inquiry  into  mind,  and 
what  an  important  means  of  analysis  a  knowledge  of  them 
yields  us.  Carrying  the  knowledge  so  gained  into  our  exami- 
nation of  the  functions  of  the  higher  nerve-centres,  we  ob- 
serve how  much  of  them  it  will  serve  to  interpret.  The  re- 
sult is,  that  we  find  a  great  part  of  the  habitual  functions  of 
the  higher  centres  to  be  similarly  automatic,  and  to  admit  of 
a  similar  physiological  interpretation. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  ganglionic  nuclei  of  the 
senses — the  sensorial  nuclei — are  connected  with  motor  nu- 
clei ;  and  that  we  have  in  such  anatomical  arrangement  the 
agency  of  a  number  of  reflex  movements.  Most  of  the  in- 
stinctive acts  of  animals  are  of  this  kind,  the  faculties  being 
innate  in  them.  In  man,  however,  who  is  actually  the  most 
helpless,  thougli  potentially  the  most  powerful,  of  all  living 
creatures  when  he  comes  into  the  world,  the  sensory  and 
associated  motor  nuclei  must  be  educated,  just  as  the  spinal 
centres  must.  To  illustrate  this  sensori-motor  or  instinctive 
action,  we  may  take  the  results  of  Flourens's  well-known 
experiment  of  removing  the  cerebral  hemispheres  of  a  pigeon. 
What  happens  ?  The  pigeon  seemingly  loses  at  once  all  in- 
telligence and  all  power  of  spontaneous  action.  It  appears 
as  if  it  were  asleep ;  yet,  if  thrown  into  the  air,  it  will  fly. 
If  laid  on  its  back,  it  struggles  on  to  its  legs  again  ;  the  pupil 
of  the  eye  contracts  to  light,  and,  if  the  light  be  very  bright, 
the  eyes  are  shut.  It  will  dress  its  feathers  if  they  are  ruflSed, 
and  will  sometimes  follow  with  a  movement  of  its  head  the 
movement  of  a  candle  before  it ;  and,  when  a  pistol  is  fired  o^ 
It  will  open  its  eyes,  stretch  its  neck,  raise  its  head,  and  then 
fall  back  into  its  former  attitude.  It  is  quite  evident  from 
this  experiment  that  general  sensibility  and  special  sensations 
are  possible  after  the  removal  of  the  hemispheres ;  but  they 


SENSORI-MOTOR  ACTS.  21 

are  not  then  transformed  into  ideas.  The  impressions  of  sense 
reach  and  affect  the  sensory  centres,  but  they  are  not  intel- 
lectually ^ercez-we^Z ;  and  the  proper  movements  are  excited, 
but  these  are  reflex  or  automatic.  There  are  no  ideas,  there 
is  no  true  spontaneity;  and  .the  animal  would  die  of  hunger 
before  a  plateful  of  food,  though  it  will  swallow  it  when 
pushed  far  enough  into  its  mouth  to  come  within  the  range 
of  the  reflex  acts  of  deglutition.  Here  again,  then,  we  have 
a  surprising  variety  of  adapted  actions  of  which  the  body  is 
capable  without  the  intervention  of  intelligence,  emotion,  and 
will — without,  in  fact,  mind  in  its  exact  sense  having  any  part 
in  them.  The  pigeon  is  brought  to  the  level  of  the  inverte- 
brata,  which  have  no  higher  nerve-centres  than  sensory 
ganglia,  no  centres  of  intelligence  and  will,  and  which  exe- 
cute all  their  varied  and  active  movements,  all  their  wonder- 
ful displays  of  instinct,  through  sensory  and  associated  motor 
nuclei.  They  seek  what  is  good  for  them,  avoid  what  is 
hurtful  to  them,  provide  for  the  propagation  of  their  kind — 
perform,  indeed,  all  the  functions  of  a  very  active  life  without 
Tcnowiiig  that  they  are  doing  so,  not  otherwise  than  as  our 
pupils  contract  to  light,  or  as  our  eyes  accommodate  them- 
selves to  vision  at  different  distances,  without  consciousness 
on  our  part.  The  highest  specializations  of  this  kind  of 
nerve-function  are  displayed  by  the  ant  and  the  bee ;  their 
wonderful  instinctive  arts  show  to  what  a  degree  of  special 
perfection  sensori-motor  action  may  be  brought.* 

*  I  do  not  Bay  that  the  ant  and  the  hee  are  entirely  destitute  of  any  power 
of  adaptation  to  new  experiences  in  their  lives— that  theyare,  in  fact,  purely 
organized  machines,  acting  always  with  unvarying  regularity;  it  would 
appear,  indeed,  from  close  ohservation,  that  these  creatures  do  sometimes 
discover  in  their  actions  traces  of  a  sensibility  to  strange  experiences,  and 
of  corresponding  adaptation  of  movements.  We  cannot,  moreover,  con- 
ceive how  the  remarkable  instincts  which  they  manifest  can  have  been 
»cquired  originally,  except  by  virtue  of  some  such  power.  But  the  power 
In  them  now  is  evidently  of  a  rudimentary  kind,  and  must  remain  so  while 
they  have  not  those  higher  nerve-centres  in  which  the  sensations  are  com- 
bined into  ideas,  and  perceptions  of  the  relations  of  things  are  acquired. 
Granting,  however,  that  the  bee  or  ant  has  these  traces  of  adaptive  action, 


22  BODY  AND  MIND. 

Unlike  the  bee  and  the  ant,  man  must  slowly  learn  the 
use  of  his  senses  and  their  respondent  movements.  This  he 
does  by  virtue  of  the  fundamental  property  of  nerve-centres, 
whereby  they  react  in  a  definite  way  to  suitable  impressions, 
organically  register  their  experience,  and  so  acquii-e  by  edu- 
cation their  special  faculties.  Thus  it  is  that  many  of  the 
daily  actions  of  our  life,  which  directly  follow  impressions 
on  the  senses,  take  place  in  answer  to  sensations  that  are  not 
perceived — become,  so  to  speak,  instinctive  ;  some  of  them 
being  not  a  whit  less  automatic  than  the  instinctive  acts  of 
tlie  bee,  or  the  acts  of  the  pigeon  deprived  of  its  hemispheres. 
"When  we  move  about  in  a  room  Avith  the  objects  in  which 
we  are  quite  familiar,  we  direct  our  steps  so  as  to  avoid  them, 
without  being  conscious  what  they  are,  or  what  we  are  do- 
ing ;  we  see  them,  as  we  easily  discover  if  we  try  to  move 
about  in  the  same  way  with  our  eyes  shut,  but  we  do  not 
j)erceixe  them,  the  mind  being  fully  occupied  with  some  train 
of  thought.  In  like  manner,  when  we  go  through  a  series 
of  familiar  acts,  as  in  dressing  or  undressing  ourselves,  the 
operations  are  really  automatic;  once  begun,  we  continue 
them  in  a  mechanical  order,  while  the  mind  is  thinking  of 
other  things  ;  and  if  we  afterward  reflect  upon  what  we  have 
done,  in  order  to  call  to  mind  whether  we  did  or  did  not  omit 
something,  as  for  instance  to  wind  up  our  watch,  we  cannot 
satisfy  ourselves  except  by  trial,  even  though  we  had  actually 
done  what  we  were  in  doubt  about.  It  is  evident,  indeed, 
that  in  a  state  of  profound  reverie  or  abstraction  a  person 
may,  as  a  somnambulist  sometimes  does,  see  without  know- 

11  must  be  allowed  that  they  are  truly  nidiments  of  functions,  which  in  the 
enpreme  nerve-centres  we  designate  as  reason  and  volition.  Such  a  con- 
fession might  be  a  trouble  to  a  metaphysical  physiologist,  who  would  therc- 
npon  find  it  necessary  to  place  a  metaphysical  entity  behind  the  so-called 
Instincts  of  the  bee,  but  can  be  no  trouble  to  the  iaductive  physiologist;  he 
simply  recognizes  an  illustration  of  a  physiological  diflnsion  of  properties 
Bnd  of  the  physical  conditions  of  primitive  volition,  and  traces  in  the  evo- 
lution of  mind  and  its  organs,  as  in  the  evolution  of  other  functions  anJ 
Uieir  organs,  a  progressive  specialization  and  increasing  complexitv. 


SUPREME  NERVE-CENTRES.  23 

ing  that  he  sees,  hear  without  knowing  that  he  hears,  and  go 
through  a  series  of  acts  scarcely,  if  at  all,  conscious  of  them 
at  the  time,  and  not  remembering  them  afterward.  For  the 
most  distinct  display  of  sensori-motor  action  in  man,  it  is 
necessary  that  his  cerebral  hemispheres,  which  are  so  largely 
developed,  and  intervene  much  in  the  functions  of  the  subor- 
dinate centres,  should  be  deeply  engaged  in  their  own  fanc- 
tions,  or  that  these  should  be  suspended.  This  appears  to 
be  the  case  in  those  brief  attacks  of  epileptic  unconsciousness 
known  as  the  petit  mal,  in  which  a  person  will  sometimes 
go  on  with  the  work  he  was  engaged  in  at  the  time  of  the 
attack,  utterly  unaware  of  the  momentary  interruption  of 
his  consciousness.*  There  are  many  instances  of  this  sort  on 
record,  which  I  cannot  stop  to  relate  now;  they  prove  how 
large  a  part  sensori-motor  functions,  which  are  the  highest 
nerve-functions  of  so  many  animals,  play  in  our  daily  actions. 
We  ought  clearly  to  apprehend  the  fact  that,  as  with  the 
spinal  cord,  so  here,  the  movements  which  take  place  in  an- 
swer to  the  stimulus  from  without  may  be  excited  by  the 
stimulus  of  the  will  descending  from  the  hemispheres,  and 
that,  when  they  are  so  excited,  the  immediate  agency  of  them 
is  the  same.  The  movements  that  are  outwardly  manifest 
are,  as  it  were,  contained  inwardly  in  the  appropriate  motor 
nuclei ;  these  have  been  educated  to  perform  them.  Hence 
it  is  that,  when  the  left  corpus  striatum  is  broken  up  by  dis- 
ease, the  right  cannot  do  its  special  work ;  if  it  could,  a  man 
might  write  with  his  left  hand  when  his  right  hand  was  dis- 
abled by  paralysis. 

Thus  much,  then,  concerning  our  sensori-motor  acts. 
When  we  have  yielded  up  to  the  spinal  cord  all  the  part  in 
our  actions  that  properly  belongs  to  it,  and  to  the  sensory  gan- 
glia and  their  connected  motor  nuclei  all  the  part  that  be- 
longs to  them,  we  have  subtracted  no  inconsiderable  part 
Irom  the  phenomena  which  we  are  in  the  habit  of  designating 

♦  For  example!?,  I  may  refer  to  my  work  on  "  Tlie  Physiology  and  Pa« 
thology  of  Mind,"  2d  edition. 


24  BODY  AND   MIND. 

mental  and  including  under  mind.  But  we  still  leave  un- 
touched the  highest  functions  of  the  nervous  system — those 
to  which  the  hemispherical  ganglia  minister.  These  are  the 
functions  of  intelligence,  of  emotion,  and  of  will ;  they  are 
the  strictly  mental  functions.  The  question  at  once  arises 
whether  we  have  to  do  in  these  supreme  centres  with  funda- 
mentally different  properties  and  different  laws  of  evolution 
from  those  which  belong  to  the  lower  nerve-centres.  We 
have  to  do  with  different  functions  certainly ;  but  are  the 
organic  processes  which  take  place  in  them  essentially  differ- 
ent from,  or  are  they  identical  with,  those  of  the  lower 
nerve-centres  ?  They  appear  to  be  essentially  the  same : 
there  is  a  reception  of  impressions,  and  there  is  a  reaction  to 
impressions,  and  there  is  an  organic  registration  of  the  effects 
both  of  the  impressions  and  of  the  reactions  to  them.  The  ex- 
ternal stimuli  do  not,  it  is  true,  ascend  directly  to  the  supreme 
centres  as  they  do  to  the  spinal  centres  and  the  sensory  cen- 
tres; they  are  transmitted  indirectly  through  the  sensory 
ganglia ;  it  is  through  the  senses  that  we  get  our  ideas.  This 
is  in  accordance  with  the  anatomical  observation — which, 
however,  is  disputed  —  that  no  sensory  fibres  go  directly 
through  to  the  hemispheres,  and  no  motor  fibres  start  directly 
from  them;  both  sensory  and  motor  fibres  stopping  at  the 
corpora  striata  and  thalami  optici,  and  new  fibres  connect- 
ing these  with  the  hemispheres.  But  this  does  not  alter  the 
fundamental  similarity  of  the  organic  processes  in  the  higher 
centres.  The  impressions  which  are  made  there  are  the  physi- 
ological conditions  of  ideas ;  the  feeling  of  the  ideas  is  emo- 
tion— for  I  hold  emotion  to  mean  the  special  sensibility  of 
the  vesicular  neurine  to  ideas — the  registration  of  them  is 
memory  ;  ■im^ih.Q  reaction  to  them  is  volition.  Attention 
IS  the  maintenance  of  the  tension  of  an  idea  or  a  group  of 
ideas — the  keeping  it  before  the  mind ;  and  reflection  is  the 
BQCcessive  transference  of  energy  from  one  to  another  of  a 
series  of  ideas.  "We  know  not,  and  perhaps  never  shall  know, 
what  mind  is ;  but  we  are  nevertheless  bound  to  investigate, 


MEMORY.  26 

in  a  scientific  spirit,  the  laws  of  its  functions,  and  to  trace 
the  resemblances  which  undoubtedly  exist  between  them  and 
the  functions  of  lower  nerve-centres. 

Take,  for  example,  the  so-called  faculty  of  memory,  of 
which  metaphysicians  have  made  so  much  as  affording  us  the 
knowledge  of  personal  identity.  From  the  way  in  which 
they  usually  treat  of  it,  one  would  suppose  that  memory  was 
peculiar  to  mind,  and  far  beyond  the  reach  of  physical  ex- 
planation. But  a  little  reflection  will  prove  that  it  is  noth- 
mg  of  the  kind.  The  acquired  functions  of  the  spinal  cord, 
and  of  the  sensory  ganglia,  obviously  imply  the  existence  of 
memory,  which  is  indispensable  to  their  formation  and  exer- 
cise. How  else  could  these  centres  be  educated  ?  The  im- 
pressions made  upon  them,  and  the  answering  movements, 
both  leave  their  traces  behind  them,  which  are  capable  of 
being  revived  on  the  occasions  of  similar  impressions.  A 
ganglionic  centre,  whether  of  mind,  sensation,  or  movement, 
which  was  without  memory,  would  be  an  idiotic  centre,  in- 
capable of  being  taught  its  functions.  In  every  nerve-cell 
there  is  memory,  and  not  only  so,  but  there  is  memory  in 
every  organic  element  of  the  body.  The  virus  of  small-pox 
or  of  syphilis  makes  its  mark  on  the  constitution  for  the  rest 
of  life.  We  may  forget  it,  but  it  will  not  forget  us,  though, 
like  the  memory  of  an  old  man,  it  may  fade  and  become  faint 
with  advancing  age.  The  manner  in  which  the  scar  of  a  cut 
in  a  child's  finger  is  perpetuated,  and  grows  as  the  body  grows, 
evinces,  as  Mr.  Paget  has  pointed  out,  that  the  organic  ele- 
ment of  the  part  remembers  the  change  which  it  has  suffered. 
Memory  is  the  organic  registration  of  the  effects  of  impres- 
sions, the  organization  of  experience,  and  to  recollect  is  to 
revive  this  experience — to  call  the  organized  residua  intc* 
functional  activity. 

The  fact  that  memory  is  accompanied  by  consciousness  in 
the  supreme  centres  does  not  alter  tlie  fundamental  nature  of 
the  organic  processes  that  are  the  condition  of  it.  The  more 
Bure  and  perfect,  indeed,  memory  becomes,  the  more  uncon 


26  BODY  AND  MIND. 

scions  it  becomes;  and,  when  an  idea  or  mental  state  has 
been  completely  organized,  it  is  revived  without  conscious- 
ness, and  takes  its  part  automatically  in  our  mental  opera- 
tions, just  as  an  habitual  movement  does  in  our  bodily  activ- 
ity. We  perceive  in  operation  here  the  same  law  of  organi- 
zation of  conscious  acquisitions  as  unconscious  power,  which 
we  observed  in  the  functions  of  the  lower  nerve-centres.  A 
child,  while  learning  to  speak  or  read,  has  to  remember  the 
meaning  of  each  word,  must  tediously  exercise  its  memory ; 
but  which  of  us  finds  it  necessary  to  remember  the  meanings 
of  the  common  words  which  we  are  daily  using,  as  we  must 
do  those  of  a  foreign  language  with  which  we  are  not  very 
familiar  ?  "We  do  remember  them,  of  course,  but  it  is  by  an 
unconscioQS  memory.  In  like  manner,  a  pupil,  learning  to 
play  the  piano-forte, is  obliged  to  call  to  mind  each  note:  but 
the  skilful  player  goes  through  no  such  process  of  conscious 
remembrance ;  his  ideas,  like  his  movements,  are  automatic, 
and  both  so  rapid  as  to  surpass  the  rapidity  of  succession  of 
conscious  ideas  and  movements.  To  my  mind,  there  are  in- 
controvertible reasons  to  conclude  that  the  organic  conditions 
of  memory  are  the  same  in  the  supreme  centres  of  thought 
as  they  are  in  the  lower  centres  of  sensation  and  of  reflex 
action.  Accordingly,  in  a  brain  that  is  not  disorganized  by 
injury  or  disease,  the  organic  registrations  are  never  actually 
forgotten,  but  endure  while  life  lasts;  no  wave  of  oblivion 
can  efface  their  characters.  Consciousness,  it  is  true,  may 
be  impotent  to  recaU  them  ;  but  a  fever,  a  blow  on  the  head, 
a  poison  in  the  blood,  a  dream,  the  agony  of  drowning,  the 
hoar  of  death,  rending  the  veil  between  our  present  con- 
sciousness and  these  inscriptions,  will  sometimes  call  viv- 
idly back,  in  a  momentary  flash,  and  call  back  too  with  all 
the  feelings  of  the  original  experience,  much  that  seemed  to 
have  vanished  from  the  mind  forever.  In  the  deepest  and 
most  secret  recesses  of  mind,  there  is  nothing  hidden  from 
the  individual  self,  or  from  others,  which  may  not  be  thus 
some  time  accidentally  revealed ;  eo  that  it  might  well  be 


VOLITION.  21 

that,  as  De  Quincey  surmised,  the  opening  of  the  book  at 
the  day  of  judgment  shall  be  the  unfolding  of  the  everlasting 
scroll  of  memory.* 

As  it  is  with  memory  so  is  it  with  volition,  which  is  a 
physiological  function  of  the  supreme  centres,  and  which,  like 
memory,  becomes  more  unconscious  and  automatic  the  more 
completely  it  is  organized  by  repeated  practice.  It  is  not 
man's  function  in  life  to  think  and  feel  only;  his  inner  life  he 
must  express  or  utter  in  action  of  some  kind — in  word  or 
deed.  Eeceiving  the  impressions  from  Nature,  of  which  he 
is  a  part,  he  reacts  upon  Nature  intelligently,  modifying  it  in 
a  variety  of  ways ;  thus  Nature  passes  through  human  na- 
ture to  a  higher  evolution.  As  the  spinal  cord  reacts  to  its 
impressions  in  excito-motor  action,  and  as  the  sensory  centres 
react  to  their  impressions  in  sensori-motor  action,  so,  after 
the  complex  interworking  and  combination  of  ideas  in  the 
hemispherical  ganglia,  there  is,  in  like  manner,  a  reaction  or 
desire  of  determination  of  energy  outward,  in  accordance 
with  the  fundamental  property  of  organic  structure  to  seek 
what  is  beneficial  and  shun  what  is  hurtful  to  it.  It  is  this 
property  of  tissue  that  gives  the  impulse  which,  wJien  guided 
by  intelligence,  we  call  volition,  and  it  is  the  abstraction 
from  the  particular  volitions  which  metaphysicians  personify- 
as  the  will,  and  regard  as  their  determining  agent.  Physio- 
logically, we  cannot  choose  but  reject  the  will ;  volition  we 
know,  and  will  we  know,  but  the  will,  apart  from  particular 
acts  of  volition  or  will,  we  cannot  know.  To  interpose  such 
a  metaphysical  entity  between  reflection  and  action  there- 
upon would  bring  us  logically  to  the  necessity  of  interposing 
a  similar  entity  between  the  stimulus  to  the  spinal  cord  and 
its  reaction.  Thus,  instead  of  unravelling  the  complex  by 
help  of  the  more  simple,  we  should  obscure  the  simple  by 

*  An  apt  illustration,  most  trae  to  Nature,  of  the  recurrence  of  early 
Impressions  in  the  delirium  of  dying,  is  afforded  by  Falstafif,  who,  as  ha 
expires  in  a  London  tavern  after  a  life  of  debauchery,  babbles  of  green 
fields. 


08  BODY  AND  MIND. 

speculations  concemmg  the  complex.  As  physiologists,  we 
have  to  deal  with  volition  as  a  function  of  the  supreme  cen- 
tres, following  reflection,  varying  in  quantity  and  quality  as 
its  cause  varies,  strengthened  by  education  and  exercise,  en- 
feebled by  disuse,  decaying  with  decay  of  structure,  and  al- 
ways needing  for  its  outward  expression  the  educated  agency 
of  the  subordinate  motor  centres.  We  have  to  deal  with 
will,  not  as  a  single  undecomposable  faculty  unaffected  by 
bodily  conditions,  but  as  a  result  of  organic  changes  in  the 
supreme  centres,  affected  as  certainly  and  seriously  by  dis- 
order of  them  as  our  motor  faculties  are  by  disorder  of  their 
centres.  Loss  of  power  of  will  is  one  of  the  earliest  and  most 
characteristic  symptoms  of  mental  derangement ;  and  what- 
ever may  have  been  thought  in  times  past,  we  know  well 
now  that  the  loss  is  not  the  work  of  some  unclean  spirit  that 
has  laid  its  hands  upon  the  will,  but  the  direct  effect  of 
physical  disease. 

But  I  must  pass  on  now  to  other  matters,  without  stop- 
ping to  unfold  at  length  the  resemblances  between  the  prop- 
erties of  the  supreme  centres  and  those  of  the  lower  nerve- 
centres.  We  see  that  the  supreme  centres  are  educated,  as 
the  other  centres  are,  and  the  better  they  are  educated  the 
better  do  they  perform  their  functions  of  thinking  and  willing. 
The  development  of  mind  is  a  gradual  process  of  organization 
in  them.  Ideas,  as  they  are  successively  acquired  through 
the  gateways  of  the  senses,  are  blended  and  combined  and 
grouped  in  a  complexity  that  defies  analysis,  the  organic  com- 
binations being  the  physiological  conditions  of  our  highest 
mental  operations — reflection,  reasoning,  and  judgment.  Two 
leading  ideas  we  ought  to  grasp  and  hold  fast :  first,  that  the 
complex  and  more  recondite  phenomena  of  mind  are  formed 
out  of  the  more  simple  and  elementary  by  progressive  spe 
cialization  and  integration ;  and,  secondly,  that  the  laws  bi 
means  of  which  this  formation  takes  place  are  not  laws  oi 
association  merely,  but  laws  of  organic  combination  and  evo 
lution.    The  growth  of  mental  power  means  an  actual  addj 


MOTOR  INTUITIONS.  29 

tion  of  structure  to  tlie  intimate  constitution  of  the  centres 
of  mind — a  mental  organization  in  them ;  and  mental  derange- 
ment means  disorder  of  them,  primary  or  secondary,  func- 
tional or  organic. 

Although  I  have  declared  the  hemispherical  ganglia  to  he 
preeminently  the  mind-centres,  and  although  it  is  in  disorder 
of  their  functions — in  disordered  intelligence,  in  disordered 
emotion,  and  in  disordered  will — that  insanity  essentially  con- 
sists, it  is  nevertheless  impossible  to  limit  the  study  of  our 
mental  operations  to  the  study  of  them.  They  receive  im- 
pressions from  every  part  of  the  body,  and,  there  is  reason  to 
believe,  exert  an  influence  on  every  element  of  it :  there  is 
not  an  organic  motion,  sensible  or  insensible,  which  does  not, 
consciously  or  unconsciously,  affect  them,  and  which  they  in 
turn  do  not  consciously  or  unconsciously  affect.  So  intimate 
and  essential  is  the  sympathy  between  all  the  organic  func- 
tions, of  which  mind  is  the  crown  and  consummation,  that  we 
may  justly  say  of  it,  that  it  sums  up  and  comprehends  the 
bodily  life — that  every  thing  which  is  displayed  outwardly  is 
contained  secretly  in  the  innermost.  We  cannot  truly  under- 
stand mind-functions  without  embracing  in  our  inquiry  all 
the  bodily  functions  and,  I  might  perhaps  without  exaggera- 
tion say,  all  the  bodily  features. 

I  have  already  shown  this  in  respect  of  motor  functions, 
by  exhibiting  how  entirely  dependent  for  its  expression  will 
is  upon  the  organized  mechanism  of  the  motor  centres — how, 
in  effecting  voluntary  movements,  it  presupposes  the  appro- 
priate education  of  the  motor  centres.  Few  persons,  perhaps, 
consider  what  a  wonderful  art  speech  is,  or  even  remember 
that  it  is  an  art  which  we  acquire.  But  it  actually  costs  us  a 
great  deal  of  pains  to  learn  to  speak ;  all  the  language  which 
an  infant  has  is  a  cry ;  and  it  is  only  because  w  e  begin  to  learn 
to  talk  when  we  are  very  young,  and  are  constantly  prac- 
tising, that  we  forget  how  specially  we  have  had  to  educate 
our  motor  centres  of  speech.  Here,  however,  we  come  to 
another  pregnant  consideration :  the  acquired  faculty  of  the 


30  BODY  AND  MIND. 

educated  motor  centre  is  not  only  a  necessary  agency  in  the 
performance  of  a  voluntary  act,  but  I  maintain  that  it  posi- 
tively enters  as  a  mental  element  into  the  composition  of  the 
definite  volition  ;  that,  in  fact,  the  specific  motor  faculty  not 
only  acts  downward  upon  the  motor  nerves,  thus  executing 
the  movement,  but  also  acts  upward  upon  the  mind-centres, 
thereby  giving  to  consciousness  the  conception  of  the  suitable 
movement — the  appropriate  motor  intuition.  It  is  certain 
that,  in  order  to  execute  consciously  a  voluntary  act,  we  must 
have  in  the  mind  a  conception  of  the  aim  or  purpose  of  the 
act.  The  will  cannot  act  upon  the  separate  muscles,  it  can 
only  determine  the  result  desired ;  and  thereupon  the  com- 
bined contraction,  in  due  force  and  rapidity,  of  the  separate 
muscles  takes  place  in  a  way  that  we  have  no  consciousness 
of,  and  accomplishes  the  act.  The  infant  directly  it  is  born 
can  suck,  certainly  not  consciously  or  voluntarily ;  on  the  first 
occasion,  at  any  rate,  it  can  have  no  notion  of  the  purpose  of 
its  movements  ;  but  the  eftect  of  the  action  is  to  excite  in  the 
mind  the  special  motor  intuition,  and  to  lay  the  foundation 
of  the  special  volition  of  it.  We  cannot  do  an  act  voluntarily 
unless  we  know  what  we  are  going  to  do,  and  we  cannot 
Icnow  exactly  what  we  are  going  to  do  until  we  have  taught 
ourselves  to  do  it.  This  exact  knowledge  of  the  aim  of  the 
act,  which  we  get  by  experience,  the  motor  intuition  gives  us. 
The  essential  intervention  of  the  motor  intuition,  which 
is,  as  it  were,  the  abstract  of  the  movement,  in  our  mental 
life,  is  best  illustrated  by  the  movements  of  speech,  but  is  by 
no  means  peculiar  to  them.  Each  word  represents  a  certain 
association  and  succession  of  muscular  acts,  and  is  itself  noth- 
ing more  than  a  conventional  sign  or  symbol  to  mark  the  par- 
ticular muscular  expression  of  a  particular  idea.  The  word 
has  not  independent  vitality  ;  it  difi'ersin  different  languages; 
and  those  who  are  deprived  of  the  power  of  articulate  speech 
must  make  use  of  other  muscular  acts  to  express  their  ideas, 
speaking,  as  it  were,  in  a  dumb  discourse.  There  is  no  reason 
on  earth,  indeed,  why  a  person  might  not  learn  to  express 


GESTURE  LANGUAGE.  31 

every  thought  wliicli  lie  can  utter  in  speech  by  movements 
of  his  fingers,  limbs,  and  body — by  the  silent  language  of  ges- 
ture. The  movements  of  articulation  have  not,  then,  a  special 
hind  of  connection  with  the  mind,  though  their  connection  is 
a  specially  intimate  one  ;  they  are  simply  the  most  convenient 
for  the  expression  of  our  mental  states,  because  they  are  so 
numerous,  various,  delicate,  and  complex,  and  because,  in  con- 
junction with  the  muscles  of  the  larynx  and  the  respiratory 
muscles,  they  modify  sound,  and  thus  make  audible  language. 
Having,  on  this  account,  been  always  used  as  the  special  in- 
struments of  utterance,  their  connection  with  thought  is  most 
intimate ;  the  Greeks,  in  fact,  used  the  word  xSyos  to  mean 
both  reason  and  speech.  But  this  does  not  make  the  rela- 
tions of  the  movements  of  speech  to  mind  different  funda- 
mentally from  the  relations  of  other  voluntary  movements  to 
mind;  and  we  should  be  quite  as  much  warranted  in  assign- 
ing to  the  mind  a  special  faculty  of  writing,  of  walking,  or  of 
gesticulating,  as  in  speaking  of  a  special  faculty  of  speech  in  it. 
"What  is  true  of  the  relations  of  articulate  movements  to 
mental  states  is  true  of  the  relations  of  other  movements  to 
mental  states :  they  not  only  express  the  thought,  but,  when 
otherwise  put  in  action,  they  can  excite  the  appropriate 
thought.  Speak  the  word,  and  the  idea  of  which  it  is  the  ex- 
pression is  aroused,  though  it  was  not  in  the  mind  previously; 
or  put  other  muscles  than  those  of  speech  into  an  attitude 
which  is  the  normal  expression  of  a  certain  mental  state,  and 
the  latter  is  excited.  Most  if  not  all  men,  when  thinking, 
repeat  internally,  whisper  to  themselves,  as  it  were,  what  they 
are  thinking  about;  and  persons  of  dull  and  feeble  intel- 
ligence cannot  comprehend  what  tbey  read,  or  what  is  some- 
times said  to  them,  without  calling  the  actual  movement  to 
their  aid,  and  repeating  the  words  in  a  whisper  or  aloud.  As 
speech  has  become  the  almost  exclusive  mode  of  expressing 
our  thoughts,  there  not  being  many  gestures  of  the  body 
which  are  the  habitual  expressions  of  simple  ideas,  we  cannot 
present  striking  examples  of  the  powers  of  other  movements 


32  BODY  AND  MIND. 

to  call  up  tlie  appropriate  ideas ;  yet  the  delicate  muscular 
adaptations  which  effect  the  accommodation  of  the  eye  to 
vision  at  different  distances  seem  really  to  give  to  the  mind 
its  ideas  of  distance  and  magnitude.  No  one  actually  sees 
distance  and  magnitude ;  he  sees  only  certain  signs  from 
which  he  has  learned  to  judge  intuitively  of  them — the  mus- 
cular adaptations,  though  he  is  unconscious  of  them,  impart- 
ing the  suitable  intuitions. 

The  case  is  stronger,  however,  in  regard  to  our  emotions. 
Visible  muscular  expression  is  to  passion  what  language  or 
audible  muscular  expression  is  to  thought.  Bacon  rightly, 
therefore,  pointed  out  the  advantage  of  a  study  of  the  forms 
of  expression.  "For,"  he  says,  "the  lineaments  of  the  body 
do  disclose  the  disposition  and  inclination  of  the  mind  in  gen- 
eral ;  but  the  motions  of  the  countenance  and  parts  do  not 
only  so,  but  do  further  disclose  the  present  humor  and  state 
of  the  mind  or  will."  The  muscles  of  the  countenance  are 
the  chief  exponents  of  human  feeling,  much  of  the  variety  of 
which  is  due  to  the  action  of  the  orbicular  muscles  with  the 
system  of  elevating  and  depressing  muscles.  Animals  cannot 
laugh,  because,  besides  being  incapable  of  ludicrous  ideas, 
they  do  not  possess  in  suflScient  development  the  orbicular 
muscle  of  the  lips  and  the  straight  muscles  which  act  upon 
them.  It  is  because  of  the  superadded  muscles  and  of  their 
combined  actions — ^not  combined  contraction  merely,  but 
consentaneous  action,  the  relaxation  of  some  accompanying 
the  contraction  of  others — ^that  the  human  countenance  is 
capable  of  expressing  a  variety  of  more  complex  emotions 
than  animals  can.  Those  who  would  degrade  the  body,  in 
order,  as  they  imagine,  to  exalt  the  mind,  should  consider 
more  deeply  than  they  do  the  importance  of  our  muscular 
expressions  of  feeling.  The  manifold  shades  and  kinds  of 
expression  which  the  lips  present — their  gibes,  gambols,  and 
flashes  of  merriment;  the  quick  language  of  a  quivering 
nostril ;  the  varied  waves  and  ripples  of  beautiful  emotion 
which  play  on  the  human  countenance,  with  the  spasms  of 


MUSCULAR  EXPRESSION.  33 

passion  that  disfigure  it — all  which  we  take  such  pains  to 
embody  in  art — are  simply  effects  of  muscular  action,  and 
might  be  produced  by  electricity  or  any  other  stimulus,  if  we 
could  only  apply  it  in  suitable  force  to  the  proper  muscles. 
When  the  eye  is  turned  upward  in  rapt  devotion,  in  the 
ecstasy  of  supplication,  it  is  for  the  same  reason  as  it  is  rolled 
upward  in  fainting,  in  sleep,  in  the  agony  of  death :  it  is  an 
involuntary  act  of  the  oblique  muscles,  when  the  straight 
muscles  cease  to  act  upon  it.  We  perceive,  then,  in  the  study 
of  muscular  action,  the  reason  why  man  looks  up  to  heaven 
in  prayer,  and  why  he  has  placed  there  the  power  "  whence 
Cometh  his  help."  A  simple  property  of  the  body,  as  Sir  0. 
Bell  observes — the  fact  that  the  eye  in  supplicartion  takes 
what  is  its  natural  position  when  not  acted  upon  by  the  will 
—has  influenced  our  conceptions  of  heaven,  our  religious  ob- 
servances, and  the  habitual  expression  of  our  highest  feelings. 
Whether  each  passion  which  is  special  in  kind  has  its 
special  bodily  expression,  and  what  is  the  expression  of  each, 
it  would  take  me  too  long  to  examine  now.  Sufl&ce  it  to  say 
that  the  special  muscular  action  is  not  merely  the  exponent 
of  tlie  passion,  but  truly  an  essential  part  of  it.  Fix  the 
countenance  in  the  pattern  of  a  particular  emotion — ^in  a 
look  of  anger,  of  wonder,  or  of  scorn — and  the  emotion 
whose  appearance  is  thus  imitated  will  not  fail  to  be  aroused. 
And  if  we  try,  while  the  features  are  fixed  in  the  expression 
of  one  passion,  to  call  up  in  the  mind  a  quite  different  one, 
we  shall  find  it  impossible  to  do  so.  This  agrees  with  the 
experiments  of  Mr.  Braid  on  persons  whom  he  had  put  into 
a  state  of  hypnotism;  for,  when  the  features  or  the  limba 
were  made  by  him  to  assume  the  expression  of  a  particular 
emotion,  thereupon  the  emotion  was  actually  felt  by  the  pa- 
tient, who  began  to  act  as  if  he  was  under  its  influence.  We 
perceive  then  that  the  muscles  are  not  alone  the  machinery 
by  which  the  mind  acts  upon  the  world,  but  that  their  ac- 
tions are  essential  elements  in  our  mental  operations.  The 
superiority  of  the  human  over  the  animal  mind  seems  to  be 


34  BODY  AND  MIXD. 

essentially  connected  with  the  greater  variety  of  muscular 
action  of  which  man  is  capable :  were  he  deprived  of  the  in- 
finitely-varied movements  of  hands,  tongue,  larynx,  lips,  and 
face,  in  which  he  is  so  far  aliead  of  the  animals,  it  is  prob- 
able that  he  would  be  no  better  than  an  idiot,  notwithstand- 
ing he  might  have  a  normal  development  of  brain.* 

If  these  reflections  are  well  grounded,  it  is  obvious  that 
disorder  of  the  motor  centres  may  have,  as  I  believe  it  has, 
no  little  effect  upon  the  phenomena  of  mental  derangement. 
In  some  cases  of  insanity  there  are  genuine  muscular  hallu- 
cinations, just  as  there  are  in  dreams  sometimes,  when  the 
muscles  are  in  a  constrained  attitude ;  and,  where  the  morbid 
effects  are  not  so  marked,  there  is  good  reason  to  suppose 
that  a  searching  inquiry  along  this  almost  untrodden  path 
will  disclose  the  mode  of  generation  of  many  delusions  that 
seem  now  inexplicable. 

But  we  cannot  limit  a  complete  study  of  mind  even  by  a 
fall  knowledge  of  the  functions  of  the  nervous  and  muscular 
systems.  The  organic  system  has  most  certainly  an  essential 
part  in  the  constitution  and  the  fanctions  of  mind.  In  the 
great  mental  revolution  caused  by  the  development  of  the 
sexual  system  at  puberty  we  have  the  most  striking  example 
of  the  intimate  and  essential  sympathy  between  the  brain  as 
a  mental  organ  and  other  organs  of  the  body.  The  change 
of  character  at  this  period  is  not  by  any  means  limited  to  the 
appearance  of  the  sexual  feelings  and  their  sympathetic 
ideas,  but,  when  traced  to  its  ultimate  reach,  will  be  found 
to  extend  to  the  highest  feelings  of  mankind,  social,  moral, 
and  even  religious.  In  its  lowest  sphere,  as  a  mere  animal 
instinct,  it  is  clear  that  the  sexual  appetita  forces  the  most 
selfish  person  out  of  the  little  circle  of  self-feeling  into  a 
wider  feeling  of  family  sympathy  and  a  rudimentary  moral 
feeling.   The  consequence  is  that,  when  an  individual  is  sexu- 

*  There  may  be  no  little  truth,  therefore,  though  not  the  entire  truth, 
In  the  saying  of  Anaxagoras,  that  man  is  the  wisest  of  animals  by  reason 
of  his  having  hands. 


ORGANIC  FUNCTIONS.  35 

ally  mutilated  at  an  early  age,  he  is  emasculated  morally  as 
well  as  physically.  Eunuchs  are  said  to  be  the  most  de- 
praved creatures  morally :  they  are  cowardly,  envious  liars, 
utterly  deceitful,  and  destitute  of  real  social  feeling.  And 
there  is  certainly  a  characteristic  variety  of  insanity  caused 
by  self-abuse,  which  makes  the  patient  very  like  a  eunuch  in 
character. 

It  has  been  affirmed  by  some  philosophers  that  there  is 
no  essential  difference  between  the  mind  of  a  woman  and 
that  of  a  man;  and  that  if  a  girl  were  subjected  to  the  same 
education  as  a  boy,  she  would  resemble  him  in  tastes,  feel- 
ings, pursuits,  and  powers.  To  my  mind  it  would  not  be  one 
whit  more  absurd  to  affirm  that  the  antlers  of  the  stag,  the 
human  beard,  and  the  cock's  comb,  are  effects  of  education ; 
or  that,  by  putting  a  girl  to  the  same  education  as  a  boy,  the 
female  generative  organs  might  be  transformed  into  male 
organs.  The  physical  and  mental  differences  between  the 
sexes  intimate  themselves  very  early  in  life,  and  declare 
themselves  most  distinctly  at  puberty :  they  are  connected 
with  the  influence  of  the  organs  of  generation.  The  forms 
and  habits  of  mutilated  men  approach  those  of  women ;  and 
women,  whose  ovaries  and  uterus  remain  from  some  cause  in 
a  state  of  complete  inaction,  approach  the  forms  and  habits 
of  men.  It  is  said,  too,  that  in  hermaphrodites  the  mental 
character,  like  the  physical,  participates  equally  in  that  of 
both  sexes.  While  woman  preserves  her  sex,  she  will  neces- 
sarily be  feebler  than  man,  and,  having  her  special  bodily 
and  mental  characters,  will  have  to  a  certain  extent  her  own 
sphere  of  activity ;  where  she  has  become  thoroughly  mas- 
culine in  nature,  or  hermaphrodite  in  mind — when,  in  fact, 
she  has  pretty  well  divested  herself  of  her  sex — then  she 
may  take  his  ground,  and  do  his  work ;  but  she  wiU  have 
lost  her  feminine  attractions,  and  probably  also  her  chief 
feminine  functions. 

Allowing  that  the  generative  organs  have  their  specific 
effect  upon  the  mind,  the  question  occurs  whether  each  of 


36  BODY  AND  MIXD. 

the  internal  organs  has  not  also  a  special  effect,  giving  rise  to 
particular  feelings  witli  their  sympathetic  ideas.  They  are 
notably  united  in  the  closest  sympathy,  so  that,  although  in- 
sensihle  to  touch,  they  have  a  sensibility  of  their  own,  by 
virtue  of  -which  they  agree  in  a  consent  of  functions,  and  re- 
spond more  or  less  to  one  another's  sufferings ;  and  there  can 
be  no  question  that  the  brain,  as  the  leading  member  of  this 
physiological  union,  is  sensible  of,  and  affected  by,  the  con- 
ditions of  its  fellow-members.  "We  have  not  the  same  oppor- 
tunity of  observing  the  specific  effects  of  other  organs  that 
we  have  in  the  case  of  the  generative  organs;  for  while 
those  come  into  functional  action  directly  after  birth,  these 
come  into  action  abruptly  at  a  certain  period,  and  thus  ex- 
hibit their  specific  effects  in  a  decided  manner.  It  may  well 
be,  however,  that  the  general  uniformity  among  men  in  their 
passions  and  emotions  is  due  to  the  specific  sympathies  of 
organs,  just  as  the  uniformity  of  their  ideas  of  external  N"a- 
ture  is  due  to  the  uniform  operation  of  the  organs  of  sense. 
It  is  probable  that  an  exact  observation  of  the  mental  ef- 
fects of  morbid  states  of  the  different  organs  would  help  the 
inquiry  into  the  feelings  and  desires  of  the  mind  which  owe 
their  origin  to  particular  organs.  TThat  are  the  psychological 
features  of  disease  of  the  heart,  disease  of  the  lungs,  disease 
of  the  liver?  They  are  unquestionably  different  in  each  case. 
The  inquiry,  which  has  never  yet  been  seriously  attempted, 
is,  without  doubt,  a  difficult  one,  but  I  believe  that  the  phe- 
nomena of  dreams  might,  if  carefully  observed,  afford  some 
help.  The  ground-tone  of  feeling  in  a  dream,  the  background 
on  which  the  phantoms  move,  is  often  determined  by  the 
state  of  an  internal  organ,  the  irritation  of  which  awakens 
into  some  degree  of  activity  that  part  of  the  brain  with 
which  the  organ  is  in  specific  sympathy;  accordingly  sympa- 
thetic ideas  spring  out  of  the  feeling  and  unite  in  a  more  or 
less  coherent  dream-drama.  How  plainly  this  happens  in  the 
case  of  the  generative  organs  it  is  unnecessary  to  point  out : 
exciting  their  specific  dreams,  they  teach  a  lesson  concerning 


SPECIFIC  ORGANIC  SYMPATHIES.  37 

ptysiological  sympatliies  which,  applied  to  the  observation 
of  the  effects  of  other  organs,  may  be  largely  useful  in  the 
interpretation,  not  of  dreams  only,  but  of  the  phenomena  of 
insanity.  Dreams  furnish  a  particularly  fruitful  field  for  the 
study  of  the  specific  effects  of  organs  on  mind,  because  these 
effects  are  more  distinctly  felt  and  more  distinctly  declared 
when  the  impressions  from  the  external  senses  are  shut  out 
by  sleep.  As  the  stars  are  not  visible,  although  they  still 
shine,  in  the  daytime,  so  the  effects  of  an  internal  organ  may 
not  be  perceptible  during  the  waking  state  while  conscious- 
ness is  actively  engaged.  But  just  as,  when  the  sun  goes 
down,  the  stars  shine  visibly,  which  before  were  invisible, 
veiled  by  his  greater  light,  so  when  active  consciousness  is 
suspended,  organic  sympathies,  which  before  were  insensible, 
declare  themselves  in  the  mind.  Perhaps  it  is  in  the  lexcita- 
tionof  its  sympathetic  feeling  and  ideas  by  a  disordered  organ 
during  sleep  that  we  may  discover  the  explanation  of  a  fact 
which  seems  to  be  undoubted,  and  to  be  more  than  accident- 
al— namely,  that  a  person  has  sometimes  dreamed  propheti- 
cally that  he  would  have  a  particular  internal  disease,  before 
he  consciously  felt  a  symptom  of  it,  and  has  been  afterward 
surprised  to  find  his  dream  come  true. 

It  is  natural  to  suppose  that  the  passion  which  a  particu- 
lar organ  produces  in  the  mind  will  be  that  which,  when 
otherwise  excited,  discharges  itself  specially  upon  that  organ. 
Notably  this  is  the  case  with  the  sexual  organs  and  the  pas- 
sion to  which  they  minister.  When  we  consider  the  effects 
which  a  joyful  anticipation,  or  the  elation  of  a  present  ex- 
citement, has  upon  the  lungs — the  accelerated  breathing  and 
the  general  bodily  exhilaration  which  it  occasions — we  can- 
not help  thinking  of  the  strange  hopefulness  and  the  sanguine 
expectations  of  the  consumptive  patient,  who,  on  the  edge 
of  the  grave,  projects,  without  a  shadow  of  distrust,  what  h« 
will  do  long  after  he  will  have  been  "  green  in  death  and  fes- 
tering in  his  shroud."  Observe  how  fear  strikes  the  heart, 
and  what  anxious  fear  and  apprehension  accompany  soma 


58  BODY  AXD  MIND. 

affections  of  the  heart.  Anger,  disappointment,  and  envy, 
notably  touch  the  liver ;  which,  in  its  turn,  when  deranged, 
engenders  a  gloomy  tone  of  mind  through  which  all  things 
have  a  malignant  look,  and  fi'om  which,  when  philosophy 
avails  not  to  free  us,  the  restoration  of  its  functions  will 
yield  instant  relief.  The  internal  organs  are  plainly  not  the 
agents  of  their  special  functions  only,  but,  by  reason  of  the 
intimate  consent  or  sympathy  of  functions,  they  are  essential 
constituents  of  our  mental  life. 

The  time  yet  at  my  disposal  will  not  allow  me  to  do  more 
than  mention  the  effects  of  mental  states  on  the  intimate  pro- 
cesses of  nutrition  and  secretion.  Emotion  may  undoubtedly 
favor,  hinder,  or  pervert  nutrition,  and  increase,  lessen,  or 
alter  a  secretion ;  in  doing  which  there  is  reason  to  think 
that  it  acts,  not  only  by  dilating  or  contracting  the  vessels 
through  the  vaso-motor  system,  as  we  witness  in  the  blush 
of  shame  and  the  pallor  of  fear,  but  also  directly  on  the  or- 
ganic elements  of  the  part  through  the  nerves,  which,  as  the 
latest  researches  seem  to  show,  end  in  them  sometimes  by 
continuity  of  substance.  If  they  do  so  end,  it  is  difficult  to 
conceive  how  a  strong  emotion  vibrating  to  the  ultimate 
fibrils  of  a  nerve  can  fail  to  affect  for  a  moment  or  longer 
the  functions  of  the  organic  elements.  Be  this  so  or  not, 
however,  the  familiar  observations — first,  that  a  lively  hope 
or  joy  exerts  an  enlivening  effect  upon  the  bodily  life,  quiet 
and  equable  when  moderate,  but,  when  stronger,  evinced  in 
the  brilliancy  of  the  eye,  in  the  quickened  pulse  and  respira- 
tion, in  an  inclination  to  laugh  and  sing ;  and,  secondly,  that 
grief  or  other  depressing  passion  has  an  opposite  effect,  re- 
laxing the  arteries,  enfeebling  the  heart,  making  the  eye  dull, 
impeding  digestion,  and  producing  an  inclination  to  sigh  and 
weep — these  familiar  observations  of  opposite  effects  indicate 
the  large  part  which  mental  states  may  play,  not  in  the 
causation  of  all  sorts  of  disease  alone,  but  in  aiding  recov- 
ery from  them.  A  sudden  and  great  mental  shock  may,  like 
a  great  physical  shock,  and  perhaps  in  the  same  way,  par- 


INFLUENCE    OF  MIND   ON  BODY.  39 

uljze  for  a  time  all  the  bodily  and  mental  fonctions,  or  cause 
instant  death.  It  may,  again,  produce  epilepsy,  apoplexy,  or 
insanity ;  while  a  prolonged  state  of  depression  and  anxiety 
is  sometimes  an  important  agent  in  the  causation  of  chronic 
disease,  such  as  diabetes  and  heart-disease.  Can  it  be 
doubted,  too,  that  the  strong  belief  that  a  bodily  disorder 
will  be  cured  by  some  appliance,  itself  innocent  of  good  or 
harm,  may  so  affect  beneficially  the  nutrition  of  the  part  as 
actually  to  effect  a  cure  ?  To  me  it  seems  not  unreasonable 
to  suppose  that  the  mind  may  stamp  its  tone,  if  not  its  very 
features,  on  the  individual  elements  of  the  body,  inspiring 
them  with  hope  and  energy,  or  infecting  them  with  despair 
and  feebleness.  A  separated  portion  of  the  body,  so  little 
that  our  naked  eye  can  make  nothing  of  it,  the  spermatozoon 
of  the  male  and  the  ovum  of  the  female,  does  at  any  rate 
contain,  in  a  latent  state,  the  essential  characters  of  the 
mind  and  body  of  the  individual  from  whom  it  has  pro- 
ceeded ;  and,  as  we  are  utterly  ignorant  how  this  myste- 
rious effect  is  accomplished,  we  are  certainly  not  in  a  posi- 
tion to  deny  that  what  is  true  of  the  spermatozoon  and  ovum 
may  be  true  of  other  organic  elements.  And,  if  this  be  so, 
then  those  who  profess  to  discover  the  character  of  the  in- 
dividual in  the  character  of  the  nose,  the  hand  the  features, 
or  other  part  of  the  body,  may  have  a  foundation  of  truth 
for  speculations  which  are  yet  only  vague,  fanciful,  and  val- 
ueless. 

Perhaps  we  do  not,  as  physicians,  consider  sufficiently  the 
influence  of  mental  states  in  the  production  of  disease,  and 
their  importance  as  symptoms,  or  take  all  the  advantage 
which  we  might  take  of  them  in  our  efforts  to  cure  it.  Quack- 
ery seems  to  have  here  got  hold  of  a  truth  which  legitimate 
medicine  fails  to  appreciate  and  use  adequately.  Assuredly 
the  most  successful  physician  is  he  who,  inspiring  the  great 
est  confidence  in  his  remedies,  strengthens  and  exalts  the  im- 
agination  of  his  patient :  if  he  orders  a  few  drops  of  pepper- 
mint-water with  the  confident  air  of  curing  the  disease,  wiU 


40  BODY  AND  MIND. 

he  not  really  do  more  sometimes  for  the  patient  than  one  who 
treats  him  in  the  most  approved  scientific  way,  but  without 
inspiring  a  conviction  of  recovery  ?  Ceremonies,  charms,  ges- 
ticulations, amulets,  and  the  like,  have  in  all  ages  and  among 
all  nations  been  greatly  esteemed  and  largely  used  in  the 
treatment  of  disease  ;  and  it  may  be  speciously  presumed  that 
they  have  derived  their  power,  not  from  any  contract  with 
the  supernatural,  but,  as  Bacon  observes,  by  strengthening 
and  exalting  the  imagination  of  him  who  used  them.  En- 
tirely ignorant  as  we  are,  and  probably  ever  shall  be,  of  the 
nature  of  mind,  groping  feebly  for  the  laws  of  its  operation, 
we  certainly  cannot  venture  to  set  bounds  to  its  power  over 
those  intimate  and  insensible  molecular  movements  which 
are  the  basis  of  all  our  visible  bodily  functions,  any  more  than 
we  can  justly  venture  to  set  bounds  to  its  action  in  the  vast 
and  ever-progressing  evolution  of  Nature,  of  which  all  our 
thoughts  and  works  are  but  a  part.  This  much  we  do  know : 
that  as,  on  the  one  hand,  in  the  macrocosm  of  Nature,  it  is 
certain  that  the  true  idea  once  evolved  is  imperishable — that 
it  passes  from  individual  to  individual,  from  nation  to  nation, 
from  generation  to  generation,  becoming  the  eternal  and  ex- 
alting possession  of  man — so,  on  the  other  hand,  in  the  mi- 
crocosm of  the  body,  wliich  some  ignorantly  despise,  there 
are  many  more  things  in  the  reciprocal  action  of  mind  and 
organic  element  than  are  yet  dreamed  of  in  our  philosophy. 


LECTURE  n. 

Gentlemen  :  In  mj  last  lecture  I  gaye  a  general  snrvey 
of  tlie  physiology  of  onr  mental  functions,  showing  how  in- 
dissoluhly  they  are  bound  up  with  the  bodily  functions,  and 
how  barren  must  of  necessity  be  a  study  of  mind  apart  from 
body.  I  pointed  out  that  the  higher  mental  operations  were 
functions  of  the  supreme  nerve-centres ;  but  that,  though  of 
a  higher  and  more  complex  nature  than  the  functions  of  the 
lower  nerve-centres,  they  obeyed  the  same  physiological  laws 
of  evolution,  and  could  be  best  approached  through  a  knowl- 
edge of  them.  I  now  propose  to  show  that  tbe  phenomena 
of  the  derangement  of  mind  bear  out  fully  this  view  of  its  na- 
ture ;  that  we  have  not  to  deal  with  disease  of  a  metaphys- 
ical entity,  which  the  method  of  inductive  inquiry  cannot 
reach,  nor  the  resources  of  the  medical  art  touch,  but  with 
disease  of  the  nervous  system,  disclosing  itself  by  physical 
and  mental  symptoms.  I  say  advisedly  physical  and  mental, 
because  in  most,  if  not  all,  cases  of  insanity,  at  one  period  or 
other  of  their  course,  there  are,  in  addition  to  the  prominent 
mental  features,  symptoms  of  disordered  nutrition  and  secre- 
tion, of  disordered  sensibility,  or  of  disordered  motility.  Nei- 
ther in  health  nor  in  disease  is  the  mind  imprisoned  in  one 
corner  of  the  body ;  and,  when  a  person  is  lunatic,  he  is,  as 
Dr.  Bucknill  has  remarked,  lunatic  to  his  fingers'  ends. 

Mental  disorders  are  neither  more  nor  less  than  nervous  dis- 
eases in  which  mental  symptoms  predominate,  and  their  entire 
separation  from  other  nervous  diseases  has  been  a  sad  hin- 


42  BODY  AND  MIND. 

derance  to  progress.  When  a  blow  on  the  head  has  paralyzed 
sensibility  and  movement,  in  consequence  of  the  disease  in 
the  brain  which  it  has  initiated,  the  patient  is  sent  to  the 
hospital ;  but  when  a  blow  on  the  head  has  caused  mental 
derangement,  in  consequence  of  the  disease  of  brain  which  it 
has  initiated,  the  patient  is  sent  to  an  asylum.  In  like  man- 
ner, one  man  who  has  unluckily  swallowed  the  eggs  of  a 
tfenia,  and  has  got  a  cysticercus  in  the  brain,  may  go  to  the 
hospital ;  another  who  has  been  similarly  unlucky  goes  to  an 
asylum.  Syphilitic  disease  of  the  brain  or  its  arteries  lands 
one  person  in  an  asylum  with  mental  symptoms  predominant, 
another  in  a  hospital  with  sensory  and  motor  disorder  pre- 
dominant. The  same  cause  produces  different  symptoms,  ac- 
cording to  the  part  of  the  brain  which  it  particularly  affects. 
No  doubt  it  is  right  that  mental  derangements  should  have, 
as  they  often  require,  the  special  appliances  of  an  asylum, 
but  it  is  certainly  not  right  that  the  separation  which  is  neces- 
sary for  treatment  should  reach  to  their  pathology  and  to  the 
metliod  of  its  study.  So  long  as  this  is  the  case,  we  shall 
labor  in  vain  to  get  exact  scientific  ideas  concerning  their 
causation,  their  pathology,  and  their  treatment. 

Clearing,  then,  the  question  as  completely  as  possible  from 
the  haze  which  metaphysics  has  cast  around  it,  let  us  ask — 
How  comes  idiocy,  or  insanity  ?  What  is  the  scientific  mean- 
ing of  them?  We  may  take  it  to  be  beyond  question  that 
they  are  not  accidents;  that  they  come  to  pass,  as  every 
other  event  in  Nature  does,  by  natural  law.  They  are  mys- 
terious visitations  only  because  we  understand  not  the  laws 
of  their  production,  appear  casualties  only  because  we  are 
ignorant  of  their  causality.  When  a  blow  on  the  head  or  an 
inflammation  of  the  membranes  of  the  brain  has  produced 
derangement  of  mind,  we  need  not  look  farther  for  a  cause : 
the  actual  harm  done  to  structure  is  suflicient  to  account  for 
disorder  of  function  in  the  best-constituted  and  best-developed 
brain.  But  it  is  only  in  a  small  proportion  of  cases  of  insanity 
that  we  car  discover  such  a  direct  physical  occasion  of  disease. 


i 


IDIOCY  43 

In  a  great  many  cases — in  more  than  half,  certainly,  and  per- 
liaps  in  five  out  of  six — there  is  something  in  the  nervous 
organization  of  the  person,  some  native  peculiarity,  which, 
however  we  name  it,  predisposes  him  to  an  outbreak  of  in- 
sanity. When  two  persons  undergo  a  similar  moral  shock, 
or  a  similar  prolonged  anxiety,  and  one  of  them  goes  mad  in 
consequence,  while  the  other  goes  to  sleep  and  goes  to  work 
and  recovers  his  equanimity,  it  is  plain  that  all  the  cooper- 
ating conditions  have  not  been  the  same,  that  the  entire 
cause  has  been  different.  What,  then,  has  been  the  differ- 
ence ?  In  the  former  case  there  has  been  present  a  most  im- 
portant element,  which  was  happily  wanting  in  the  latter — 
there  has  been  a  certain  hereditary  neurosis,  an  unknown  and 
variable  quantity  in  the  equation. 

Perhaps  of  all  the  erroneous  notions  concerning  mind 
which  metaphysics  has  engendered  or  abetted,  there  is  none 
more  false  than  that  which  tacitly  assumes  or  explicitly  de- 
clares that  men  are  born  with  equal  original  mental  capacity, 
opportunities  and  education  determining  the  differences  of 
subsequent  development.  The  opinion  is  as  cruel  as  it  is  false. 
What  man  can  by  taking  thought  add  one  cubit  either  to  his 
mental  or  to  his  bodily  stature?  Multitudes  of  human  beings 
come  into  the  world  weighted  with  a  destiny  against  which 
they  have  neither  the  will  nor  the  power  to  contend  ;  they  are 
the  step-children  of  Nature,  and  groan  under  the  worst  of  all 
tyrannies — the  tyranny  of  a  bad  organization.  Men  differ,  in- 
deed, in  the  fundamental  characters  of  their  minds,  as  they  do 
in  the  features  of  their  countenances,  or  in  the  habits  of  their 
bodies;  and  between  those  who  are  born  with  the  pojten- 
tiality  of  a  full  and  complete  mental  development,  nnder  fa- 
vorable circumstances,  and  those  who  are  born  with  an 
innate  incapacity  of  mental  development,  under  any  circum- 
stances, there  exists  every  gradation.  What  teaching  could 
ever  raise  the  congenital  idiot  to  the  common  level  of  hu- 
man intelligence?  What  teaching  could  ever  keep  the  in- 
spired mind  of  the  man  of  genius  at  that  level? 


44  BODY  AND  MIND. 

The  congenital  idiot  is  deprived  of  his  human  birthright ; 
for  he  is  born  with  such  a  defect  of  brain  that  he  cannot 
display  any,  or  can  only  display  very  feeble  and  imperfect 
mental  functions.  From  no  fault  of  his  own  is  he  thus  afflict- 
ed, seeing  that  he  must  be  held  innocent  of  all  offence  but 
the  offence  of  his  share  of  original  sin ;  but  it  is  nowise  so 
clear  that  it  is  not  from  some  fault  of  his  parents.  It  is  all  too 
true  that,  in  many  cases,  there  has  observably  been  a  neglect 
or  disregard  of  the  laws  which  govern  the  progress  of  human 
development  through  the  ages.  Idiocy  is,  indeed,  a  manufac- 
tured article ;  and,  although  we  are  not  always  able  to  tell 
how  it  is  manufactured,  still  its  important  causes  are  known 
and  are  within  control.  Many  cases  are  distinctly  traceable 
to  parental  intemperance  and  excess.  Out  of  300  idiots  in 
Massachusetts,  Dr.  Howe  found  as  many  as  145  to  be  the  off- 
spring of  intemperate  parents ;  and  there  are  numerous  scat- 
tered observations  which  prove  that  chronic  alcoholism  in 
the  parent  may  directly  occasion  idiocy  in  the  child.  I  think, 
too,  that  there  is  no  reasonable  question  of  the  ill  effects  of 
marriages  of  consanguinity :  that  their  tendency  is  to  pro- 
duce degeneracy  of  the  race,  and  idiocy  as  the  extremest 
form  of  such  degeneracy.  I  do  not  say  that  all  the  children 
of  such  marriages  may  not  sometimes  be  healthy,  and  some 
of  them  quite  healthy  at  other  times ;  but  the  general  and 
ultimate  result  of  breeding  in  and  in  is  to  produce  barrenness 
and  sterility,  children  of  a  low  degree  of  viability  and  of 
imperfect  mental  and  physical  development,  deaf-mutism,  and 
actual  imbecility  or  idiocy.  Again,  insanity  in  the  parent 
may  issue  in  idiocy  in  the  offspring,  which  is,  so  to  speak,  the 
natural  term  of  mental  degeneracy  when  it  goes  on  un- 
checked through  generations.  It  may  be  affirmed  with  no 
little  confidence  that,  if  the  experiment  of  intermarrying  in- 
sane persons  for  two  or  three  generations  were  tried,  the  re- 
sult would  be  sterile  idiocy  and  extinction  of  the  family. 
Certain  unfavorable  conditions  of  life  tend  unquestionably  to 
produce  degeneracy  of  the  individual ;  the  morbid  predispo- 


DEGENERATE  VARIETIES.  45 

Bition  so  generated  is  then  transmitted  to  the  next  generation, 
and,  if  the  unfavorable  conditions  continue,  is  aggravated  in 
it ;  and  thus  is  formed  a  morbid  variety  of  the  human  kind, 
which  is  incapable  of  being  a  link  in  the  line  of  progress  of 
humanity.  Nature  puts  it  under  the  ban  of  sterility,  and 
thus  prevents  the  permanent  degradation  of  the  race.  Morel 
has  traced  through  four  generations  the  family  history  of  a 
youth  who  was  admitted  into  the  asylum  at  Kouen  in  a  state 
of  stupidity  and  semi-idiocy;  the  summary  of  which  may 
fitly^illustrate  the  natural  course  of  degeneracy  when  it  goes 
on  through  generations. 

First  generation :  Immorality,  depravity,  alcoholic  ex- 
cess and  moral  degradation,  in  the  great-grandfather,  who 
was  killed  in  a  tavern-brawl. 

Second  generation :  Hereditary  drunkenness,  maniacal  at- 
tacks, ending  in  general  paralysis,  in  the  grandfather. 

Third  generation :  Sobriety,  but  hypochondriacal  tenden- 
cies, delusions  of  persecutions,  and  homicidal  tendencies  in 
the  father. 

Fourth  generation :  Defective  intelligence.  First  attack 
of  mania  at  sixteen;  stupidity,  and  transition  to  complete 
idiocy.  Furthermore,  probable  extinction  of  the  family; 
for  the  generative  functions  were  as  little  developed  as  those 
of  a  child  of  twelve  years  of  age.  He  had  two  sisters  who 
were  both  defective  physically  and  morally,  and  were  classed 
as  imbeciles.  To  complete  the  proof  of  heredity  in  this  case, 
Morel  adds  that  the  mother  had  a  child  while  the  father  was 
confined  in  the  asylum,  and  that  this  adulterous  child  showed 
no  signs  of  degeneracy. 

When  epilepsy  in  young  children  leads  to  idiocy,  as  it 
often  does,  we  must  generally  look  for  the  deep  root  of  the 
mischief  in  the  family  neurosis. 

No   one  can  well   dispute  that,  in  the  case  of  such  an 

extreme  morbid  variety  us  a  congenital  idiot  is,  we  have  to 

do  with  a  defective  nervous  organization.      "We  are  still, 

however,  without  more  than  a  very  few  exact  description? 

3 


46  BODY  AND  MIND. 

of  the  brains  of  idiots.  Mr.  Marshall  has  recently  examined 
and  described  the  brains  of  two  idiots  of  European  descent. 
He  found  the  convolutions  to  be  fewer  in  number,  individu- 
ally less  complex,  broader  and  smoother,  than  in  the  apes : 
"In  this  respect,"  he  says,  "the  idiots'  brains  are  even  more 
simple  than  that  of  the  gibbon,  and  approach  that  of  the 
baboon."  The  condition  was  the  result  neither  of  atrophy 
nor  of  mere  arrest  of  growth,  but  consisted  essentially  in  an 
imperfect  evolution  of  the  cerebral  hemispheres  or  their 
parts,  dependent  on  an  arrest  of  development.  The  propor- 
tion of  the  weight  of  brain  to  that  of  body  was  extraordinarily 
diminished.  We  learn,  then,  that  when  man  is  born  with  a 
brain  no  higher — indeed,  lower — than  that  of  an  ape,  he  may 
have  the  convolutions  fewer  in  number,  and  individually  less 
complex,  than  they  are  in  the  brain  of  a  chimpanzee  and  an 
orang;  the  human  brain  may  revert  to,  or  fall  below,  that 
type  of  development  from  which,  if  the  theory  of  Darwin  be 
true,  it  has  gradually  ascended  by  evolution  through  the 


"With  the  defect  of  organ  there  is  a  corresponding  defect 
of  function.  But  there  is  sometimes  more  than  a  simple 
defect.  A  curious  and  interesting  fact,  which  has  by  no 
means  yet  received  the  consideration  which  it  deserves,  is 
that,  with  the  appearance  of  this  animal  type  of  brain  in 
idiocy,  there  do  sometimes  appear  or  reappear  remarkable 
animal  traits  and  instincts.  There  is  a  class  of  idiots  which 
may  justly  be  designated  theroid^  so  like  brutes  are  the  mem- 
bers of  it.  The  old  stories  of  so-called  wild  men,  such  as 
Peter  the  wild  boy,  and  the  young  savage  of  Aveyron,  who 
ran  wild  in  the  woods  and  lived  on  acorns  and  whatever  else 
they  could  pick  up  there,  were  certainly  exaggerated  at  the 
time.  These  degraded  beings  were  evidently  idiots,  who 
exhibited  a  somewhat  striking  aptitude  and  capacity  for  a 
wild  animal  life.  Dr.  Carpenter,  however,  quotes  the  case 
of  an  idiot  girl,  who  was  seduced  by  some  miscreant,  and 
who,  when  she  was  delivered,  gnawed  through  the  umbilical 


i 


THEROID  DEGENERACY.  47 

cord  as  some  of  the  lower  animals  do.  And  Dr.  Orichton 
Brown,  of  the  West  Riding  Asylum,  records  a  somewhat 
Biniilar  case  in  a  young  woman,  not  an  idiot  naturally,  but 
who  had  gone  completely  demented  after  insanity.  She  had 
been  in  the  habit  of  escaping  from  home,  and  of  living  in 
solitude  in  the  woods,  feeding  upon  wild  fruits  or  what  she 
could  occasionally  beg  at  a  cottage,  and  sleeping  in  the  brush- 
wood. She  had  frequently  lived  in  this  manner  for  a  fort- 
night at  a  time.  During  one  of  these  absences  she  was 
delivered  of  twins ;  she  had  sought  out  a  sheltered  hollow, 
and  there,  reverting  to  a  primitive  instinct,  gnawed  through 
the  umbilical  cord.  The  twins  were  alive  when  found  two 
days  after  birth,  but  the  mother  was  in  a  very  exhausted 
state,  having  had  no  food  or  covering  since  her  delivery. 
"  We  have  at  Salpetri^re,"  says  Esquirol,  "  an  imbecile  woman, 
who  used  to  earn  a  few  sous  by  doing  rough  household 
work.  It  has  happened  on  several  occasions  that  as  soon  aa 
she  got  her  sous  she  took  them  to  a  laborer,  and  gave  herself 
up  to  his  brutality ;  but  when  she  was  pregnant  she  went  no 
more  to  him." 

In  the  conformation  and  habits  of  other  idiots  the  most 
careless  observer  could  not  help  seeing  the  ape.  A  striking 
instance  of  this  kind  is  described  by  Dr.  Mitchell,  Deputy 
Commissioner  in  Lunacy  for  Scotland.  "  I  have  never,"  he 
says,  "seen  a  better  illustration  of  the  ape-faced  idiot  than  in 
this  case.  It  is  not,  however,  the  face  alone  that  is  ape- 
like. He  grins,  chatters,  and  screams  like  a  monkey,  never 
attempting  a  sound  in  any  way  resembling  a  word.  He  puts 
himself  in  the  most  ape-like  attitude  in  his  hunts  after  lice, 
and  often  brings  his  mouth  to  help  his  hands.  He  grasps 
what  he  brings  to  his  mouth  with  an  apish  hold.  His  thumbs 
are  but  additional  fingers.  He  has  a  leaping  walk.  He  has 
heavy  eyebrows,  and  short  hair  on  his  cheek  or  face.  He  is 
muscular,  active,  and  not  dwarfish.  He  sits  on  the  floor  in 
ape  fashion,  with  his  genitals  always  exposed.  He  has  filthy 
habits  of  all  kinds.     He  may  be  called  an  idiot  of  the  lowest 


18  BODY  AND   MIXD.      • 

order ;  yet  there  is  a  miscliievous  brute-like  intelligence  in  his 
eye.  His  head  is  not  very  small,  its  greatest  circumference 
being  twenty  inches  and  a  half,  but  in  shape  it  strongly 
exhibits  the  ape-form  of  abnormality." 

Pinel  has  recorded  the  case  of  an  idiot  "svho  was  some- 
thing like  a  sheep,  both  in  respect  of  her  tastes,  her  mode  of 
life,  and  the  form  of  her  head.  She  had  an  aversion  to  meat, 
and  ate  fruit  and  vegetables  greedily,  and  drank  nothing  but 
water.  Her  demonstrations  of  sensibility,  joy,  or  trouble, 
were  confined  to  the  repetition  of  the  ill-articulated  words, 
5^,  ma^  tail.  She  alternately  bent  and  raised  her  head,  and 
rubbed  herself  against  the  belly  of  the  girl  who  attended 
her.  If  she  wanted  to  resist  or  express  her  discontent,  she 
tried  to  butt  with  the  crown  of  her  head ;  she  was  very  pas- 
sionate. Her  back,  her  loins,  and  shoulders,  were  covered 
with  flexible  and  blackish  hairs  one  or  two  inches  long.  She 
never  could  be  made  to  sit  on  a  chair  or  bench,  even  when  at 
meals;  as  soon  as  she  was  placed  in  a  sitting  posture,  s?ie 
glided  on  the  floor.  She  slept  on  the  floor  in  the  posture  of 
animals. 

There  is  now  under  care,  in  the  West  Riding  Asylum,  a 
deformed  idiot  girl  who,  in  general  appearance  and  habits, 
has,  according  to  Dr.  Brown,  striking  features  of  resemblance 
to  a  goose ;  so  much  so,  that  the  nurses  who  received  her  dp- 
scribed  her  as  just  like  "  a  plucked  goose."  Her  father  died 
in  the  asylum,  and  her  mother's  sister  was  also  a  patient  in  it 
at  one  time.  She  is  four  feet  two  inches  in  height,  has  a  small 
head,  and  thin  and  scanty  hair,  so  that  the  crown  of  the  head 
is  partially  bald.  The  eyes  are  large,  round,  prominent,  and 
restless,  and  are  frequently  covered  by  the  eyelids,  as  if  \>y  a 
Blow,  forcible  eff'ort  at  winking.  The  lower  jaw  is  laige, 
projecting  more  than  one  inch  beyond  the  contracted  upper 
jaw,  and  possesses  an  extraordinary  range  of  antero-pos- 
terior,  as  well  as  lateral,  movement ;  the  whole  configuration 
of  the  lower  part  of  the  face  having  a  somewhat  bill-like  ap- 
pearance.    The  neck  is  unusually  long  and  flexible,  and  is 


TUEROID   IDIOCY.  49 

capable  of  being  bent  backward  so  as  actually  to  toucli  the 
back  between  the  scapuke.  Tlie  cutis  anserina  is  general 
over  the  body,  but  is  most  marked  on  the  back  and  dorsal 
aspects  of  the  limbs,  where  it  looks  exactly  as  if  it  had  been 
just  deprived  of  feathers.  The  inferior  angles  of  the  scapula) 
stand  prominently  out,  and  moving  freely  with  the  movements 
of  the  arms  have  precisely  the  appearance  of  rudimentary 
wings.  The  girl  utters  no  articulate  sounds,  but  expresses 
pleasure  by  cackling  like  a  goose,  and  displeasure  by  hissing 
or  screeching  like  a  goose,  or  perhaps  like  a  macaw.  "When 
angry,  she  flaps  her  arms  against  her  sides  and  beats  her  feet 
upon  the  floor.  She  knows  her  own  name,  and  understands 
one  or  two  short  sentences,  such  as  "  Come  here  "  and  "  Put 
out  your  hand."  She  recognizes  the  persons  who  attend 
upon  her,  and  feed  her,  and  is  much  agitated  if  touched  by  a 
stranger.  She  cannot  feed  herself,  but  swallows  voraciously 
all  that  is  put  into  her  mouth,  showing  no  preference  for  one 
article  of  diet  over  another.  She  is  dirty  in  her  habits,  and 
no  amount  of  attention  has  improved  her  in  this  respect. 
She  is  very  fond  of  her  bath,  cackling  when  she  is  put  into  it. 
and  screeching  when  she  is  taken  out  of  it.* 

It  is  a  natural  question,  Whence  come  these  animal  traits 

*  The  following  acconnt  of  an  idiot  in  the  "Western  Counties  Idiot  Asy- 
lum has  been  communicated  to  me  by  Mr.  Kenton,  surgeon  to  the  Asylum  : 
She  is  between  15  and  16  years  old,  has  a  very  small  head,  bnt  is  well  formed 
otherwise,  and  well  nourished.  She  has  little  or  no  intellect,  not  being  able 
to  speak,  and  barely  understanding  a  few  signs.  By  careful  treatment  she 
has  been  taught  to  feed  herself,  but  there  her  education  has  reached  its 
limit.  She  has  been  left  to  herself,  and  watched  with  a  view  to  observe  her 
natural  habits.  When  alone  in  the  garden,  she  chooses  a  quiet  spot  among 
the  shrubs,  and,  sitting  down,  will  bend  forward  with  her  small  head  be- 
tween her  thighs,  and  occupy  herself  in  picking  imaginary  insects  from  the 
adjacent  parts  of  her  body,  pretending  to  pick  them  and  to  throw  them 
away.  She  will  then  wander  about,  and  finding  a  suitable  bough,  will 
swing  by  her  hands,  and  then  double  her  legs  over  the  branch  and  swing 
with  her  head  downward.  She  will  steal  any  thing  she  fancies,  and  hide  it 
away ;  will  suddenly  spring  upon  any  child  near  and  bite  and  scratch  It, 
and  then  in  a  moment  look  as  demure  as  if  she  had  done  nothing.  At  cer- 
tain times  she  will  go  under  the  shrubs,  scratch  a  hole  with  her  hands  in 


50  BODY  AND  MIKD. 

and  instincts  in  man?  Whence  was  derived  the  instinct 
which  taught  the  idiot  woman  to  gnaw  through  the  umhilical 
cord?  Was  it  really  the  reappearance  of  a  primitive  instinct 
of  animal  nature — a  faint  echo  from  a  far-distant  past,  testi- 
fying to  a  kinship  which  man  has  almost  outgrown,  or  has 
grown  too  proud  to  acknowledge?  No  doubt  such  animal 
traits  are  marks  of  extreme  human  degeneracy,  but  it  is  no 
explanation  to  call  them  so ;  degenerations  come  by  law,  and 
are  as  natural  as  natural  law  can  make  them.  Instead  of 
passing  them  by  as  abnormal,  or,  worse  still,  stigmatizing 
them  as  unnattiral,  it  behooves  us  to  seek  for  the  scientific 
interpretation  which  they  must  certainly  have.  When  we 
reflect  that  every  human  brain  does,  in  the  course  of  its  de- 
velopment, pass  througli  the  same  stages  as  the  brains  of 
other  vertebrate  animals,  and  that  its  transitional  states  re- 
semble the  permanent  forms  of  their  brains ;  and  when  we 
reflect  further,  that  the  stages  of  its  development  in  the 
womb  may  be  considered  the  abstract  and  brief  chronicle  of 
a  series  of  developments  that  have  gone  on  through  countless 
ages  in  Nature,  it  does  not  seem  so  wonderful,  as  at  the  first 
blush  it  might  do,  that  it  should,  when  in  a  condition  of 
arrested  development,  sometimes  display  animal  instincts. 
Summing  up,  as  it  were,  in  itself  the  leading  forms  of  the 
vertebrate  type,  there  is  truly  a  brute  brain  within  the  man's; 
and  when  the  latter  stops  short  of  its  characteristic  develop- 
ment as  Tiuman — wlien  it  remains  arrested  at  or  below  the 
level  of  an  orang's  brain — it  may  be  presumed  that  it  will 
manifest  its  most  primitive  functions,  and  no  higher  functions. 

the  ground,  sit  down  upon  it  as  a  cat  does,  then  turn  round  and  carefully 
cover  the  spot  by  scraping  the  earth  over  it  with  her  hands.  She  tears  her 
clothes  up  into  strips,  and  hides  the  pieces.  Mr.  Kenton  mentions  another 
idiot  under  his  care,  who  puts  every  thing  to  his  nose  before  putting  it  into 
his  mouth.  This  he  does,  not  liastily,  but  deliberately,  examining  each 
piece  of  food  carefully  by  his  sense  of  smell.  He  greatly  dislikes  butter, 
and  will  not  eat  pie-crust  or  any  cooked  food  which  contains  butter,  and  he 
detects  its  presence  with  certainty  by  the  sense  of  smell.  He  will  not  kiss 
any  one  iDl  he  has  sniffed  at  the  person  first. 


CEREBRAL  DEVELOPMENT.  51 

I  am  not  aware  of  any  other  considerations  than  those  just 
adduced  which  offer  even  the  glimpse  of  an  explanation  of 
the  origin  of  these  animal  traits  in  man.  We  need  not,  how- 
ever, confine  our  attention  to  idiots  only.  "Whence  come  the 
savage  snarl,  the'  destructive  disposition,  the  obscene  lan- 
guage, the  wild  howl,  the  offensive  habits,  displayed  by  some 
of  the  insane  ?  Why  should  a  human  being  deprived  of  his 
reason  ever  become  so  brutal  in  character  as  some  do,  unless 
he  has  the  brute  nature  within  him?  In  most  large  asylums 
there  is  one,  or  more  than  one,  example  of  a  demented  per- 
son who  truly  ruminates  :  bolting  his  food  rapidly,  he  retires 
afterward  to  a  corner,  where  at  his  leisure  he  quietly  brings 
it  up  again  into  the  mouth  and  masticates  it  as  the  cow  does. 
I  should  take  up  a  long  time  if  I  were  to  enumerate  the 
various  brute-like  characteristics  that  are  at  times  witnessed 
among  the  insane  ;  enough  to  say  that  some  very  strong  facts 
and  arguments  in  support  of  Mr.  Darwin's  views  might  be 
drawn  from  the  field  of  morbid  psychology.  We  may,  with- 
out much  diflS-Culty,  trace  savagery  in  civilization,  as  we  can 
trace  animalism  in  savagery ;  and,  in  the  degeneration  of  in- 
sanity, in  the  unhinding,  so  to  say,  of  the  human  kind,  there 
are  exhibited  marks  denoting  the  elementary  instincts  of  its 
composition. 

It  behooves  us,  as  scientific  inquirers,  to  realize  distinctly 
the  physical  meaning  of  the  progress  of  human  intelligence 
from  generation  to  generation.  What  structural  differences 
in  the  brain  are  implied  by  it?  That  an  increasing  purpose 
runs  through  the  ages  and  that  "the  thoughts  of  men  are 
widened  with  the  process  of  the  suns,"  no  one  will  call  in 
question ;  and  that  this  progress  has  been  accompanied  by  a 
progressive  development  of  the  cerebral  hemispheres,  the 
convolutions  of  which  have  increased  in  size,  number,  and 
complexity,  will  hardly  now  be  disputed.  Whether  the  frag- 
ments of  ancient  human  crania  which  have  been  discovered 
in  Europe  do  or  do  not  testify  to  the  existence  of  a  barbarous 
race  that  disappeared  before  historical  time,  they  certainly 


52  BODY  AND  MIXD. 

mark  a  race  not  higher  than  the  lowest  surviving  human  va- 
riety. Dr.  Pritchard's  comparison  of  the  skulls  of  the  same 
nation  at  diiFerent  periods  of  its  history  led  him  to  the  con- 
clusion that  the  present  inhabitants  of  Britain,  "  either  as  the 
result  of  many  ages  of  great  intellectual  cultivation  or  from 
some  other  cause,  have  much  more  capacious  brain-cases 
than  their  forefathers."  Yet  stronger  evidence  of  a  growth 
of  brain  with  the  growth  of  intelligence  is  furnished  by  an 
examination  of  the  brains  of  existing  savages.  Gratiolet  has 
figured  and  described  the  brain  of  the  Hottentot  Yenus,  who 
was  nowise  an  idiot.  He  found  a  striking  simplicity  and  a 
regular  arrangement  of  the  convolution  of  the  frontal  lobes, 
which  presented  an  almost  perfect  symmetry  in  the  two 
hemispheres,  involuntarily  recalling  the  regularity  and  sym- 
metry of  the  cerebral  convolutions  in  the  lower  animals. 
The  brain  was  palpably  inferior  to  that  of  a  normally-de- 
veloped white  woman,  and  could  only  be  compared  with  the 
brain  of  a  white  idiotic  from  arrest  of  cerebral  development. 
Mr.  Marshall  has  also  recently  examined  the  brain  of  a  Bush- 
woman,  and  has  discovered  like  evidence  of  structural  inferi- 
ority :  the  primary  convolutions,  although  all  present,  were 
smaller  and  much  less  complicated  than  in  the  European ; 
the  external  connecting  convolutions  were  still  more  remark- 
ably defective;  the  secondary  .sulci  and  convolutions  were 
everywhere  decidedly  less  developed  ;  there  was  a  deficiency 
of  transverse  commissural  fibres  ;  and  in  size,  and  every  one 
of  the  signs  of  comparative  inferiority,  "it  leaned,  as  it  were, 
to  the  higher  quadrumanous  forms."  The  developmental  dif- 
ferences between  this  brain  and  the  brain  of  a  European 
were  in  fact  of  the  same  kind  as,  though  less  in  degree  than, 
those  between  the  brain  of  an  ape  and  that  of  a  man. 
Among  Europeans  the  average  weight  of  the  brain  is  greater 
in  educated  than  in  uneducated  persons  ;  its  size — other  cir- 
cumstances being  equal — bearing  a  general  relation  to  the 
mental  power  of  the  individual.  Dr.  Thurnam  concludes, 
from    a    series    of    carefully-compiled    tables,    that    while 


BRAIN-WEIGHTS.  53 

the  average  weight  of  the  brain  in  ordinary  Europeans 
is  49  oz.,  it  was  54.7  oz.  in  ten  distinguished  men;  and 
Prof.  Wagner  found  a  remarkably  complex  arrangement 
of  the  convolutions  in  the  brains  of  five  very  eminent 
men  which  he  examined.*  Thus,  then,  while  we  take  it  to 
be  well  established  that  the  convolutions  of  the  human  brain 
have  undergone  a  considerable  development  through  the  ages, 
we  may  no  less  justly  conclude  that  its  larger,  more  numer- 
ous, and  complex  convolutions  reproduce  the  higher  and  more 
varied  mental  activity  to  the  progressive  evolution  of  which 
their  progressive  increase  has  answered — that  they  manifest 
the  kird  of  function  which  has  determined  the  structure. 
The  vesicular  neurine  has  increased  in  quantity  and  in  qual- 
ity, and  the  Unction  of  the  increased  and  more  highly-en- 
dowed struc^'.ure  is  to  display  that  intelligence  which  it  un- 

*The  following  tT-bl:;  ir  compiled  from  Dr.  T'hunam'e  paper  "On  the 
Weight  of  the  Human  Brain  "  {Journal  of  Mental  Sd-ence,  April,  1866) : 

BRAIN-T^EilHTS   OP   DISTINGl  ISHFD   IiEN. 

Ages.        Oz. 

1.  Cnvier,  Naturalist  63  64.5 

2.  Abercrombie,  PhijHc:in 64  63 

3.  Spurzheim,  Physician  ......  56  55.'M5 

<i.  D'w'icYAet,  Mathematitia-A         ......  54  55.6 

5.  De  Moray,  Statesman  anc  C'm.  tuT    .       .       .       ,  50       53  fi 

6.  Daniel  Webster,  Statesman 70       53.5 

7.  Chva^'beW,  Lord- Chancellor 80       53.^ 

^.  ChdilmQv^^  celebrated  Freaci\er 6/63 

9.  Fuchs,  Pathologist {.'2       52.9 

10.  Gauss,  Mathematician       ..«-...  78       52.t» 

Average  of  ten  distinguished  mpu  ....    50-70       54.7 

Brain-weights  of  average  European  m->n     .       .       •  "j  sqIw       47! 

Average  brain-weight  of  male  negroes 44.3 

"  "  14  congenital  idi  ^tt.  (a  ales)        .       .    42 

"  •    "  8  "  "     (females)  .       .       41.2 

Estimated  brain-weight  of  Microcephalic  idiocy  (ii\ales)  .       .    37.5 

"      (females)   .       32.£: 
It  may  be  proper  to  add  that  the  average  weight  of  the  adult  male  br.iin 
Is  10  per  cent,  greater  than  that  of  the  female— 100 :  90.    The  brains  of  the 
Hottentot,  Bushman,  and  Australian  are,  so  far  as  observation  goes,  ot  leat 
Weight  iban  those  of  negroes. 


54  BODY  AND   MIND. 

consciously  embodies.  The  native  Australian,  who  is  one  of 
the  lowest  existing  savages,  has  no  words  in  his  language  to 
express  such  exalted  ideas  as  justice,  love,  virtue,  mercy;  he 
has  no  such  ideas  in  his  mind,  and  cannot  comprehend  them. 
The  vesicular  neurine  which  should  embody  them  in  its  con- 
stitution and  manifest  them  in  its  function  has  not  been  de- 
veloped in  his  convolutions;  he  is  as  incapable  therefore  of 
tlie  higher  mental  displays  of  abstract  reasoning  and  moral 
feeling  as  an  idiot  is,  and  for  a  like  reason.  Indeed,  were  we 
to  imagine  a  person  born  in  this  country,  at  this  time,  with 
a  brain  of  no  higher  development  than  the  brain  of  an  Aus- 
tralian savage  or  a  Bushman,  it  is  perfectly  certain  that  he 
would  be  more  or  less  of  an  imbecile.  And  the  only  way,  I 
suppose,  in  which  beings  of  so  low  an  order  of  development 
could  be  raised  to  a  civilized  level  of  feeling  and  thought 
Avould  be  by  cultivation 'continued  through  several  genera- 
tions ;  they  would  have  to  undergo  a  gradual  process  of  hu- 
manization  before  they  could  attain  to  the  capacity  of  civili- 
zation. 

Some,  who  one  moment  own  freely  the  broad  truth  that 
all  mental  manifestations  take  place  through  the  brain,  go 
on,  nevertheless,  to  straightway  deny  that  the  conscience  or 
moral  sensibility  can  be  a  function  of  organization.  But,  if 
all  mental  operations  are  not  in  this  world  equally  functions 
of  organization,  I  know  not  what  warrant  we  have  for  de- 
claring any  to  be  so.  The  solution  of  the  much-vexed  ques- 
tion concerning  the  origin  of  the  moral  sense  seems  to  lie  in 
the  considerations  just  adduced.  Are  not,  indeed,  our  moral 
intuitions  results  of  the  operation  of  the  fundamental  law  of 
nervous  organization  by  which  that  which  is  consciously  ac- 
quired becomes  an  unconscious  endowment,  and  is  then 
transmitted  as  more  or  less  of  an  instinct  to  the  next  genera- 
tion ?  They  are  examples  of  knowledge  which  has  been 
hardly  gained  through  the  suffering  and  experience  of  the 
race,  being  now  inherited  as  a  natural  or  instinctive  sensi- 
bility of  the  well-constituted  brain  of  the  indidduah     In  the 


< 


THE  MORAL  SENSE.  65 

matter  of  our  moral  feelings  we  are  most  truly  the  heirs  of 
the  ages.  Take  the  moral  sense,  and  examine  the  actions 
which  it  sanctions  and  those  which  it  forhids,  and  thus  ana- 
lyze, or,  as  it  were,  decompose,  its  nature,  and  it  will  be  found 
that  the  actions  which  it  sanctions  are  those  which  may  be 
proved  by  sober  reason  to  be  conducive  to  the  well-being  and 
the  progress  of  the  race,  and  that  its  prohibitions  fall  upon 
the  actions  which,  if  freely  indulged  in,  would  lead  to  the 
degeneration,  if  not  extinction,  of  manliind.  And  if  we 
could  imagine  the  human  race  to  live  back  again  to  its  ear- 
liest infancy — to  go  backward  through  all  the  scenes  and 
experiences  through  which  it  has  gone  forward  to  its  present 
height — and  to  give  back  from  its  mind  and  character  at 
each  time  and  circumstance,  as  it  passed  it,  exactly  that 
which  it  gained  when  it  was  there  before — should  we  not 
find  the  fragments  and  exuviae  of  the  moral  sense  lying  here 
and  there  along  the  retrograde  path,  and  a  condition  at  the 
beginning  which,  whether  simian  or  human,  was  bare  of  al] 
true  moral  feeling  ?  * 

"We  are  daily  vritnesses  of,  and  our  daily  actions  testify 
to,  the  operation  of  that  plastic  law  of  nervous  organization 
by  which  separate  and  successive  acquisitions  are  combined 
and  so  intimately  blended  as  to  constitute  apparently  a  sin- 
gle and  undecomposable  faculty  :  we  observe  it  in  the  forma- 
tion of  our  volitions;  and  we  observe  it,  in  a  more  simple 
and  less  disputable  form,  in  the  way  in  which  combinations 
of  movements  that  have  been  slowly  formed  by  practice  are 
executed  finally  as  easily  as  if  they  were  a  single  and  sim- 
ple movement.  If  the  moral  sense — which  is  derived,  then, 
insomuch  as  it  has  been  acquired  in  the  process  of  human 
development  through  the  ages — were  not  more  or  less  innate 
in  the  well-born  individual  of  this  age,  if  he  were  obliged  to 
go,  as  the  generations  of  his  forefathers  have  gone,  through 

*  Foster,  in  his  "Essay  on  Decision  of  Character,"  makes  this  concep. 
tlon  of  the  individual  character,  almost  in  the  words  used ;  but  the  applies 
tion  of  it  to  the  race,  and  the  conclusion  drawn,  are  of  course  not  his. 


56  BODY  AND  MIND. 

the  elementary  process  of  acquiring  it,  lie  would  be  very 
much  in  the  position  of  a  person  who,  on  each  occasion  of 
writing  his  name,  had  to  go  through  the  elementary  steps  of 
learning  to  do  so.  The  progressive  evolution  of  the  human 
brain  is  a  proof  that  we  do  inherit  as  a  natural  endowment 
the  labored  acquisitions  of  our  ancestors ;  the  added  struct- 
ure represents,  as  it  were,  the  embodied  experience  and 
memories  of  the  race ;  and  there  is  no  greater  difficulty  in 
believing  that  the  moral  sense  may  have  been  so  formed,  than 
in  believing,  what  has  long  been  known  and  is  admitted  on 
all  hands,  that  the  young  fox  or  young  dog  inherits  as  an  in- 
stinct the  special  cunning  which  the  foxes  and  the  dogs  that 
have  gone  before  it  have  had  to  win  by  hard  experience. 

These  remarks  are  not  an  unnecessary  digression.  Nor 
will  they  have  been  made  in  vain  if  they  serve  to  fix  in  our 
minds  the  conviction  that  the  law  of  progressive  evolution 
and  specialization  of  nerve-centres,  which  may  be  traced 
generally  from  the  first  appearance  of  nerve-tissue  in  the  low- 
est animals  to  the  complex  structure  of  the  nervous  system 
of  man,  and  specially  from  the  rudimentary  appearance  of 
cerebral  convolutions  in  the  lower  vertebrata  to  the  numer- 
ous and  complex  convolutions  of  the  human  brain,  does  not 
abruptly  cease  its  action  at  the  vesicular  neurine  of  the  hemi- 
spheres, but  continues  in  force  within  the  intimate  recesses 
of  the  mental  organization.  Moreover,  they  are  specially  to 
the  purpose,  seeing  that  they  enable  us  to  understand  in  some 
sort  how  it  is  that  a  perversion  or  destruction  of  the  moral 
sense  is  often  one  of  the  earliest  symptoms  of  mental  derange- 
ment :  as  the  latest  and  most  exquisite  product  of  mental  or- 
ganization, the  highest  bloom  of  culture,  it  is  the  first  to 
testify  to  disorder  of  the  mind-centres.  Not  that  we  can  de- 
tect any  structural  change  in  such  case ;  it  is  far  too  delicate 
for  that.  The  wonder  would,  indeed,  be  if  we  could  discover 
such  more  than  microscopical  changes  with  the  instruments 
of  research  which  we  yet  possess.  We  might  almost  as  well 
look  to  discover  the  anatomy  of  a  gnat  with  a  telescope. 


INSANE  NEUROSIS.  57 

I  purposely  selected  for  consideration  the  defective  brain 
of  the  idiot,  because  it  exhibits  an  undeniable  fault  of  struct- 
ure, which  is  often  plainly  traceable  to  evil  ancestral  in- 
fluences. When  we  duly  consider  this,  and  reflect  that  we 
might,  if  we  chose,  arrange  a  series  of  human  brains  which 
should  present  a  regular  gradation  from  the  brain  of  an  ape 
to  that  of  a  well-developed  European,  are  we  not  fully  justi- 
fied in  supposing  that  like  unfavorable  ancestral  influences 
may  occasion  defects  in  the  constitution  or  composition  of 
the  mind-centres  which  we  are  yet  quite  unable  to  detect  ? 
We  know  nothing  of  the  occult  molecular  movements  which 
are  the  physical  conditions  of  our  mental  operations;  we 
know  little  or  nothing  of  the  chemical  changes  which  accom- 
pany them — cannot,  in  fact,  detect  the  difli'erence  between 
the  nerve-element  of  a  brain  exhausted  by  exercise  and  in- 
capable of  further  function,  and  that  of  a  brain  reinvigorated 
by  sleep  and  ready  for  a  day  of  energetic  function ;  and  we 
know  nothing  of  the  intricate  connection  of  nerve-cells  in  the 
hemispheres.  It  is  plain,  then,  that  there  may  be,  unknown 
to  us  save  as  guessed  from  their  eflfects,  the  most  important 
modifications  in  the  molecular  activities  of  nerve-element, 
changes  in  its  chemical  composition,  and  actual  defects  in  the 
physical  constitution  of  the  nerve-centres.  Wherefore,  when 
no  appreciable  defect  is  found  in  the  brain  of  one  who  has 
had  a  strong  predisposition  to  insanity,  and  has  ultimately 
died  insane,  it  behooves  us  to  forbear  a  hasty  conclusion  that 
it  is  a  perfectly  well-constituted  brain.  Close  to  us,  yet  in- 
accessible to  our  senses,  there  lies  a  domain  of  Nature — that 
of  the  infinitely  little — the  operations  in  which  are  as  much 
beyond  our  present  ken  as  are  those  that  take  place  in  the 
remotest  regions  of  space,  to  whicli  the  eye,  with  all  its  aids, 
cannot  yet  reach,  and  of  which  the  mind  cannot  conceive. 

It  certainly  cannot  be  disputed  that,  when  nothing  abnor- 
mal whatever  may  be  discoverable  in  the  brains  of  persona 
who  have  a  strong  hereditary  tendency  to  insanity,  they 
often  exhibit  characteristic  peculiarities  in  their  manner  of 


58  BODY  AND  MIND. 

thought,  feeling,  and  conduct,  carrying  in  their  physiognomy, 
bodily  habit,  and  mental  disposition,  the  sure  marks  of  their 
evil  heritage.  These  marks  are,  I  believe,  the  outward  and 
visible  signs  of  an  inward  and  imisible  peculiarity  of  cerebral 
organization.  Here,  indeed,  we  broach  a  most  important  in- 
quiry, which  has  only  lately  attracted  attention — the  inquiry, 
namely,  into  the  physical  and  mental  sig-ns  of  the  degeneracy 
of  the  human  kind.  I  do  not  mean  to  assert  that  all  persons 
whose  parents  or  blood  relatives  have  suffered  from  nervous 
or  mental  disease  exhibit  mental  and  bodily  peculiarities ; 
some  may  be  well  formed  bodily  and  of  superior  natural  in- 
telligence, the  hereditary  disposition  in  them  not  having 
assumed  the  character  of  deterioration  of  race ;  but  it  admits 
of  no  dispute  that  there  is  what  may  be  called  an  insane 
temx)erament  or  neurosis,  and  that  it  is  marked  by  peculiari- 
ties of  mental  and  bodily  conformation.  Morel,  who  was  the 
first  to  indicate,  and  has  done  much  to  prosecute,  this  hne  of 
inquiry,  looks  upon  an  individual  so  constituted  as  containing 
in  himself  the  germs  of  a  morbid  variety  :  summing  up  the 
pathological  elements  which  have  been  manifested  by  his  an- 
cestors, he  represents  the  first  term  of  a  series  which,  if 
nothing  happen  to  check  the  transmission  of  degenerate  ele- 
ments from  generation  to  generation,  ends  in  the  extreme 
degeneracy  of  idiocy,  and  in  extinction  of  the  family. 

"What  are  the  bodily  and  mental  marks  of  the  insane 
temperament  ?  That  there  are  such  is  most  certain ;  for 
although  the  varieties  of  this  temperament  cannot  yet  be 
described  with  any  precision,  no  one  who  accustoms  himself 
to  observe  closely  will  fail  to  be  able  to  say  positively,  in 
many  instances,  whether  an  insane  person,  and  even  a  sane 
person  in  some  instances,  comes  of  an  insane  family  or  not. 
An  irregular  and  unsymmetrical  conformation  of  the  head,  a 
want  of  regularity  and  harmony  of  the  features,  and,  as  Morel 
holds,  malformations  of  the  external  ear,  are  sometimes  ob- 
served. Convulsions  are  apt  to  occur  in  early  life,  and  there 
are  tics,  grimaces,  or  other  spasmodic  movements  of  muscles 


THE   INSANE   TEMPERAMENT.  59 

of  face,  eyelids,  or  lips,  afterward.  Stammering  and  defects 
of  pronunciation  are  also  sometimes  signs  of  the  neurosis.. 
In  other  cases  there  are  peculiarities  of  the  eyes,  which, 
though  they  may  be  full  and  prominent,  have  a  vacillating 
movement,  and  a  vacantly-abstracted,  or  half-fearful,  half- 
suspicious,  and  distrustful  look.  There  may,  indeed,  be 
something  in  the  eye  wonderfully  suggestive  of  the  look  of  an 
animal.  The  walk  and  -manner  are  uncertain,  and,  though 
not  easily  described  in  words,  may  be  distinctly  peculiar. 
"With  these  bodily  traits  are  associated  peculiarities  of  thought, 
feeling,  and  conduct.  "Without  being  insane,  a  person  who 
has  the  insane  neurosis  strongly  marked  is  thought  to  be 
strange,  queer,  and  not  like  other  persons.  He  is  apt  to  see 
things  under  novel  aspects,  or  to  think  about  them  under 
novel  relati(ms,  which  would  not  have  occurred  to  an  ordinary 
mortal.  Punning  on  words  is,  I  am  inclined  to  think,  some- 
times an  indication  of  the  temperament,  and  so  also  that 
higher  kind  of  wit  which  startles  us  with  the  use  of  an  idea 
in  a  double  sense  ;  of  both  which  aptitudes  no  better  example 
can  be  given  than  that  of  Charles  Lamb.  His  case,  too,  may 
show  that  the  insane  temperament  is  compatible  with,  and 
indeed  it  not  seldom  coexists  with,  considerable  genius.  Even 
those  who  have  it  in  a  more  marked  form  often  exhibit  re- 
markable special  talents  and  aptitudes,  such  as  an  extraor- 
dinary talent  for  music,  or  for  calculation,  or  a  prodigious 
memory  for  details,  when  they  may  be  little  better  than  im- 
becile in  other  things.  There  is,  indeed,  a  marked  instinctive 
character  in  all  they  think  and  do ;  they  seem  not  to  need  or 
to  be  able  to  reflect  upon  their  own  mental  states.  At  one 
time  unduly  elated,  at  another  time  depressed  without  ap- 
parent cause,  they  are  prone  to  do  things  diff'erently  from 
the  rest  of  the  world  ;  and  now  and  then  they  do  whimsical 
and  seemingly  quite  purposeless  acts,  especially  under  con- 
ditions of  excitement,  when  the  impulses  springing  out  of  the 
unconscious  morbid  nature  surprise  and  overpower  them. 
Indeed,  the  mentai  balance  may  be  easily  upset  altogether  by 


60  BODY  AND  MIND. 

any  great  moral  shock,  or  by  the  strain  of  continued  anxiety. 
A  great  physical  change  in  the  system,  too,  such  as  is  caused 
by  the  development  of  puberty,  by  the  puerperal  state,  and 
the  climacteric  change,  is  not  without  danger  to  their  mental 
stability.  The  effects  of  alcohol  on  such  persons  are  in  some 
respects  special :  it  does  not  make  them  so  much  drunk  as 
mad  for  the  time  being ;  and  I  think  it  will  be  found  in  most, 
if  not  all,  cases  of  insanity  caused  by  alcohol  that  there  has 
been  a  predisposition  to  it. 

I  have  sketched  generally  the  features  of  the  insane 
temperament,  but  there  are  really  several  varieties  of  it  which 
need  to  be  observed  and  described.  In  practice  we  meet 
with  individuals  representing  every  gradation  from  the  mild- 
est form  of  the  insane  temperament  down  to  actual  idiocy. 
These  cases  ought  to  be  arranged  in  groups  according  to  their 
affinities,  for  until  this  be  done  we  shall  not  make  much  real 
progress  toward  exact  scientific  notions  respecting  the  causa- 
tion and  pathology  of  insanity.  One  group  might  consist  of 
those  egotistic  beings,  having  the  insane  neurosis,  who  mani- 
fest a  peculiar  morbid  suspicion  of  every  thing  and  every- 
body ;  they  detect  an  interested  or  malicious  motive  in  the 
most  innocent  actions  of  others,  always  looking  out  for  an 
evil  interpretation ;  and  even  events  they  regard  as  in  a  sort 
of  conspiracy  against  them.  Incapable  of  altruistic  reflec- 
tion and  true  sympathies,  they  live  a  life  of  solitude  and  self- 
brooding,  intrenched  within  their  morbid  self-feeling,  until  the 
discord  between  them  and  the  world  is  so  great  that  there  is 
nothing  for  it  but  to  count  them  mad.  Another  group  might 
be  made  of  those  persons  of  unsound  mental  temperament 
who  are  born  with  an  entire  absence  of  the  moral  sense, 
destitute  of  the  possibility  even  of  moral  feeling ;  they  are 
as  truly  insensible  to  the  moral  relations  of  life,  as  defi- 
cient in  this  regard,  as  a  person  color-blind  is  to  certain 
colors,  or  as  one  who  is  without  ear  for  music  is  to  the  finest 
harmonies  of  sound.  Although  there  is  usually  conjoined 
with  this  absence  of  moral  sensibility  more  or  less  weakness 


MORAL   DEFECTS.  61 

of  mind,  it  does  happen  in  some  instances  that  there  is  a  re- 
markably acute  intellect  of  the  cunning  type. 

The  observations  of  intelligent  prison-surgeons  are  tend- 
ing more  and  more  to  prove  that  a  considerable  proportion 
of  criminals  are  weak-minded  or  epileptic,  or  come  of  families 
in  which  insanity,  epilepsy,  or  some  other  neurosis,  exists. 
Mr.  Thompson,  surgeon  to  the  General  Prison  of  Scotland, 
has  gone  so  far  recently  as  to  express  his  conviction  that  the 
principal  business  of  prison-surgeons  must  always  be  with 
mental  defects  or  disease ;  that  the  diseases  and  causes  of 
death  among  prisoners  are  chiefly  of  the  nervous  system; 
and,  in  fine,  that  the  treatment  of  crime  is  a  branch  of  psy- 
chology. He  holds  that  there  is  among  criminals  a  distinct 
and  incurable  criminal  class,  marked  by  peculiar  low  physical 
and  mental  characteristics ;  that  crime  is  hereditary  in  the 
families  of  criminals  belonging  to  this  class;  and  that  this 
hereditary  crime  is  a  disorder  of  mind,  having  close  relations 
of  nature  and  descent  to  epilepsy,  dipsomania,  insanity,  and 
other  forms  of  degeneracy.  Such  criminals  are  really  mordid 
varieties,  and  often  exhibit  marks  of  physical  degeneration — 
spinal  deformities,  stammering,  imperfect  organs  of  speech, 
club-foot,  cleft-palate,  hare-lip,  deafness,  paralysis,  epilepsy, 
and  scrofula.  Moreau  relates  a  striking  case,  which  is  of  in- 
terest as  indicating  the  alliance  between  morbid  or  degenerate 
varieties,  and  which  I  may  quote  here. 

Mrs.  D ,  aged  thirty-two.     Her  grandfather  kept  an 

inn  at  the  time  of  the  great  French  Revolution,  and  during 
the  Reign  of  Terror  he  had  profited  by  the  critical  situation 
in  which  many  nobles  of  the  department  found  themselves  to 
get  them  secretly  into  his  house,  where  he  was  believed  to 
have  robbed  and  murdered  them.  His  daughter,  who  was  in 
his  secrets,  having  quarrelled  with  him,  denounced  him  to 
the  authorities,  but  he  escaped  conviction  from  want  of  proofs. 
She  subsequently  committed  suicide.  One  of  her  brothers 
had  nearly  murdered  her  with  a  knife  on  one  occasion,  and 
another  brother  hanged  himself.    Eer  sister  was  epileptic, 


62  BODY  AND   MIND. 

imbecile,  and  paroxysmally  violent.  Her  daughter,  the  pa- 
tient, after  swimming  in  the  head,  noises  in  the  ears,  flashes 
before  the  eyes,  became  deranged,  fancying  that  people  were 
plotting  against  her,  purchasing  arms  and  barricading  herself 
in  her  room,  and  was  finally  put  in  an  asylum.  Thus  there 
were,  in  different  members  of  this  family,  crime,  melancholia, 
epilepsy,  suicide,  and  mania.  Need  we  wonder  at  it?  The 
moral  element  is  an  essential  part  of  a  complete  and  sound 
character ;  he  who  is  destitute  of  it,  being  unquestionably  to 
that  extent  a  defective  being,  is  therefore  on  the  road  to,  or 
marks,  race  degeneracy ;  and  it  is  not  a  matter  of  much  won- 
der that  his  children  should,  when  better  influences  do  not 
intervene  to  check  the  morbid  tendency,  exhibit  a  further  de- 
gree of  degeneracy,  and  be  actual  morbid  varieties.  I  think 
that  no  one  who  has  studied  closely  the  causation  of  insanity 
will  question  this  mode  of  production. 

I  could  not,  if  I  would,  in  the  present  state  of  knowledge, 
describe  accurately  all  the  characteristics  of  the  insane  neu- 
rosis, and  group  according  to  their  aflinities  the  cases  testify- 
ing to  its  influence.  The  chief  concern  now  with  its  morbid 
peculiarities  is  to  point  out,  first,  that  they  mark  some  inher- 
ited fault  of  brain-organization  ;  and,  secondly,  that  the  cause 
of  such  fault  is  not  insanity  alone  in  the  parent,  but  may  be 
other  nervous  disease,  such  as  hysteria,  epilepsy,  alcoholism, 
paralysis,  and  neuralgia  of  all  kinds.  Except  in  the  case  of 
suicidal  insanity,  it  is  not  usual  for  the  parent  to  transmit  to 
the  child  the  particular  form  of  mental  derangement  from 
which  he  has  suflered :  insanity  in  the  parent  may  be  epilepsy 
in  the  child,  and  epilepsy  in  the  parent  insanity  in  the  child ; 
and,  in  families  where  a  strong  tendency  to  insajaity  exists, 
one  member  may  be  insane,  another  epileptic,  a  third  may 
Bufi'er  from  severe  neuralgia,  and  a  fourth  may  commit  sui- 
cide. The  morbid  conditions  which  affect  the  motor  nerve- 
centres  in  one  generation  seem  to  concentrate  themselves 
sometimes  upon  the  sensory  or  the  ideational  centres  in  an 
other.    In  truth,  nervous  disease  is  a  veritable  Proteus,  dis- 


J 


TRANSITORY  FURY.  68 

appearing  in  one  form  to  reappear  in  another,  and,  it  may  be, 
capriciously  skipping  one  generation  to  fasten  upon  tlie  next. 

The  different  forms  of  insanity  that  occur  in  young  chil- 
dren— as  all  forms  of  it  except  general  paralysis  may  do — are 
almost  always  traceable  to  nervous  disease  in  the  preceding 
generation,  a  neuropathic  condition  being  really  the  essential 
element  in  their  causation.  The  cases  of  acute  mania  in  chil- 
dren of  a  few  weeks  or  a  few  years  old,  which  have  been  de- 
scribed, might  more  properly  be  classed  as  examples  of  idiocy 
with  excitement.  There  can  be  no  true  mania  until  there  is 
some  mind.  But  we  do  meet  sometimes  in  older  children 
■with  a  genuine  acute  mania,  occurring  usually  in  connection 
with  chorea  or  epilepsy,  and  presenting  the  symptoms,  if  I 
may  so  express  it,  of  a  mental  chorea  or  an  epilepsy  of  the 
mind,  but  without  the  spasmodic  and  convulsive  movements 
of  these  diseases.  More  or  less  dulness  of  intelligence  and 
apathy  of  movement,  giving  the  seeming  of  a  degree  of  imbe- 
cility, is  common  enough  in  chorea,  and  in  some  cases  there 
is  violent  delirium ;  but,  besides  these  cases,  there  are  others 
in  which,  without  choreic  disorder  of  movements,  there  is  a 
choreic  mania :  it  is  an  active  delirium  of  ideas  which  is  the 
counterpart  of  the  usual  delirium  of  movements,  and  its  auto- 
matic character  and  its  marked  incoherence  are  striking 
enough  to  an  ordinary  observer.  Hallucinations  of  the  spe- 
cial senses,  and  loss  or  perversion  of  general  sensibility,  usu- 
ally accompany  the  delirium,  the  disorder  affecting  the  cen- 
tres of  special  and  general  sensation,  as  well  as  the  mind-cen- 
tres. 

Between  this  choreic  mania  and  epileptic  mania  there  are 
intermediate  conditions  partaking  more  or  less  of  the  charac- 
ter of  one  or  the  other — hybrid  forms  of  a  cataleptic  nature. 
The  child  will  lie  for  hours  or  days  in  a  seeming  ecstasy  or 
trance,  with  its  limbs  rigid  or  fixed  in  a  strange  posture. 
There  may  be  apparent  insensibility  to  impressions,  while  at 
other  times  vague  answers  are  given,  or  there  is  a  sudden 
bursting  out  into  wild  shrieks  or  incoherent  raving.     If  thi* 


84  BODY  AND  MIND. 

be  of  a  religious  kind,  the  child  is  apt  to  be  thought  by  ig- 
norant persons  to  be  inspired.  The  attacks  are  of  variable 
duration,  and  are  repeated  at  varying  intervals.  On  the  one 
hand,  they  pass  into  attacks  of  chorea ;  and,  on  the  other 
hand,  into  true  epileptic  seizures,  or  alternate  with  them. 

In  children,  as  in  adults,  a  brief  attack  of  violent  mania, 
a  genuine  mania  transitoria,  may  precede,  or  follow,  or  take 
the  place  of  an  epileptic  fit ;  in  the  latter  case  being  a  masked 
epOepsy.  Children  of  three  or  four  years  of  age  are  some- 
times seized  with  attacks  of  violent  shrieking,  desperate 
stubbornness,  or  furious  rage,  when  they  bite,  tear,  kick,  and 
do  all  the  destruction  they  can ;  these  seizures,  which  are  a 
sort  of  vicarious  epilepsy,  come  on  periodically,  and  may 
either  pass  in  the  course  of  a  few  months  into  regular  epilepsy, 
or  may  alternate  with  it.  Older  children  have  perpetrated 
crimes  of  a  savage  and  determined  nature — incendiarism  and 
even  murder — under  the  influence  of  similar  attacks  of  tran- 
sitory fury,  followed  or  not  by  epileptic  convulsions.  It  is  of 
the  utmost  importance  to  realize  the  deep  efl:ect  which  the 
epileptic  neurosis  may  have  on  the  moral  character,  and  to 
keep  in  mind  the  possibility  of  its  existence  when  a  savage, 
apparently  motiveless,  and  unaccountable  crime  has  been 
committed.  A  single  epileptic  seizure  has  been  known  to 
change  entirely  the  moral  character,  rendering  a  child  rude, 
vicious,  and  perverse,  who  was  hitherto  gentle,  amiable,  and 
tractable,  l^o  one  who  has  seen  it  can  fail  to  have  been 
struck  with  the  great  and  abrupt  change  in  moral  character 
which  takes  place  in  the  asylum  epileptic  immediately  before 
the  recurrence  of  his  fits;  in  the  intervals  between  them  he 
is  often  an  amiable,  obliging,  and  industrious  being,  but  when 
they  impend  he  becomes  sullen,  morose,  and  most  dangerous 
to  meddle  with.  Xot  an  attendant  but  can  then  foretell  that 
he  is  going  to  have  his  fits,  as  confidently  almost  as  he  can 
foretell  that  the  sun  will  rise  next  day.  Morel  has  made  tho 
interesting  observation,  which  is  certainly  well  founded,  that 
the  epileptic  neurosis  may  exist  for  a  considerable  period  in 


INSANE  NEUROSIS.  65 

an  undeveloped  or  masked  form,  showing  itself,  not  bj  con- 
vulsions, but  by  periodic  attacks  of  mania,  or  by  manifesta- 
tions of  extreme  mora)  perversion,  wMcb  are  apt  to  be 
thought  wilful  viciousness.  But  they  are  not :  no  moral  in- 
fluence will  touch  them;  they  depend  upon  a  morbid  physical 
condition,  which  can  only  have  a  physical  cure ;  and  they 
get  their  explanation,  and  indeed  justification,  afterward, 
when  actual  epilepsy  occurs. 

The  epileptic  neurosis  is  certainly  most  closely  allied  to  the 
insane  neurosis;  and  when  it  exists  in  its  masked  form,  af- 
fecting the  mind  for  some  time  before  convulsions  occur,  it  is 
hardly  possible  to  distinguish  it  from  one  form  of  the  insane 
neurosis.  The  difiiculty  of  doing  so  is  made  greater,  inas- 
much as  epilepsy  in  the  parent  may  engender  the  insane 
neurosis  in  the  child,  and  insanity  in  the  parent  the  epileptic 
neurosis  in  the  child.  A  character  which  the  insane  neurosis 
has  in  common  with  the  epileptic  neurosis  is,  that  it  is  apt  to 
burst  out  in  a  convulsive  explosion  of  violence;  that  when 
it  develops  into  actual  insanity  it  displays  itself  in  deeds 
rather  than  in  words — in  an  insanity  of  action  rather  than 
of  thought.  It  is  truly  a  neurosis  spasmodica.  Take,  for  ex- 
ample, a  case  which  is  one  of  a  class,  that  of  the  late  Alton 
murderer,  who,  taking  a  walk  one  fine  afteruoon,  met  some 
little  girls  at  play,  enticed  one  of  them  into  a  neighboring 
hop-garden,  there  murdered  her  and  cut  her  body  into  frag- 
ments, which  he  scattered  about,  returned  quietly  home, 
openly  washing  his  hands  in  the  river  on  the  way,  made  an 
entry  in  his  diary,  "Killed  a  little  girl;  it  was  fine  and  hot ;" 
and,  when  forthwith  taken  into  custody,  confessed  what  he 
had  done,  and  could  give  no  reason  for  doing  it.  At  the  trial 
it  was  proved  that  his  father  had  had  an  attack  of  acute 
mania,  and  that  another  near  relative  was  in  confinement, 
Buifering  from  homicidal  mania.  He  himself  had  been  noted 
as  peculiar;  he  had  been  subject  to  fits  of  depression,  been 
prone  to  weep  without  apparent  reason,  and  had  exhibited 
singular  caprices  of  conduct ;  and  it  had  once  been  necessary 


66  BODY  AND  MIND. 

to  watch  him  from  fear  that  he  might  commit  suicide.  He 
was  not  insane  in  the  legal  or  the  ordinary  sense  of  the 
term,  but  he  certainly  had  the  insane  neurosis,  and  it  may  be 
presumed  confidently  that  he  would,  had  he  lived,  have  be- 
come insane. 

Those  who  have  practical  experience  of  insanity  know 
well  that  there  is  a  most  distressing  form  of  the  disease  ;  in 
which  a  desperate  impulse  to  commit  suicide  or  homicide 
overpowers  and  takes  prisoner  the  reason.  The  terrible  im- 
pulse is  deplored  sometimes  by  him  who  suffers  from  it  as 
deeply  as  by  any  one  who  witnesses  it ;  it  causes  him  unspeak- 
able distress ;  he  is  fully  conscious  of  its  nature,  and  struggles 
in  vain  against  it ;  his  reason  is  no  further  affected  than  in 
having  lost  power  to  control,  or  having  become  the  slave  of, 
the  morbid  and  convulsive  impulse.  It  may  be  that  this  form 
of  derangement  does  sometimes  occur  where  there  is  no  he- 
reditary predisposition  to  insanity,  but  there  can  be  no  doubt 
that  in  tlie  great  majority  of  cases  of  the  kind  there  is  such  a 
neuropathic  state.  The  impulse  is  truly  a  convulsive  idea, 
springing  from  a  morbid  condition  of  nerve-element,  and  it 
is  strictly  comparable  with  an  epileptic  convulsion.  How 
grossly  unjust,  then,  the  judicial  criterion  of  responsibility 
which  dooms  an  insane  person  of  this  class  to  death  if  he 
knew  what  he  was  doing  when  he  committed  a  murder !  It 
were  as  reasonable  to  hang  a  man  for  not  stopping  by  an  act 
of  will  a  convulsion  of  which  he  was  conscious.  An  interest- 
ing circumstance  in  connection  with  this  morbid  impulse  is 
that  its  convulsive  activity  is  sometimes  preceded  by  a  feeling 
very  like  the  aura  epileptica — a  strange  morbid  sensation, 
beginning  in  some  part  of  the  body,  and  rising  gradually  to 
the  brain.  The  patient  may  accordingly  give  warning  of  the 
impending  attack  in  some  instances,  and  in  one  case  was 
calmed  by  having  his  thumbs  loosely  tied  together  with  a 
ribbon  when  the  forewarning  occurred.  Dr.  Skae  records  an 
instructive  example  in  one  of  his  annual  reports.  The  feeling 
began  at  the  toes,  rose  gradually  to  the  chest,  producing  a 


ill 


AURA  EPILEPTICA.  67 

sense  of  faintness  and  constriction,  and  then  to  the  head,  pro- 
ducing a  momentary  loss  of  consciousness.  This  aura  was 
accompanied  by  an  involuntary  jerking — first  of  the  legs,  and 
then  of  the  arms.  It  was  when  these  attacks  came  on  tliat 
the  patient  felt  impelled  to  commit  some  act  of  violence 
against  others  or  himself.  On  one  occasion  he  attempted  to 
commit  suicide  by  throwing  himself  into  the  water ;  moro 
often  the  impulse  was  to  attack  others.  He  deplored  his  con- 
dition, of  which  he  spoke  with  great  intelligence,  giving  all  the 
details  of  his  past  history  and  feelings.  Id  other  cases  a  feeling 
of  vertigo,  a  trembling,  and  a  vague  dread  of  something  fear- 
ful being  about  to  happen,  resembling  tlie  vertigo  and  mo- 
mentary vague  despair  of  one  variety  of  the  epileptic  aura, 
precede  the  attack.  Indeed,  whenever  a  murder  has  been 
committed  suddenly,  without  premeditation,  without  malice, 
without  motive,  openly,  and  in  a  way  quite  different  from 
the  way  in  which  murders  are  commonly  done,  we  ought  to 
look  carefully  for  evidence  of  previous  epilepsy,  and,  should 
there  have  been  no  epileptic  fits,  for  evidence  of  an  aura  epi- 
leptica  and  other  symptoms  allied  to  epilepsy. 

It  is  worth  while  observing  that  in  other  forms  of  insanity, 
when  we  look  closely  into  the  symptoms,  there  are  not  nn- 
frequently  complaints  of  strange,  painful,  and  distressing 
sensations  in  some  part  of  the  body,  which  appear  to  have  a 
relation  to  the  mental  derangement  not  unlike  that  which 
the  epileptic  aura  has  to  the  epileptic  fit.  Common  enough 
is  a  distressing  sensation  about  the  epigastrium :  it  is  not  a 
definite  pain,  is  not  comparable  strictly  to  a  burning,  or 
weight,  or  to  any  known  sensation,  but  is  an  indescribable 
feeling  of  distress  to  which  the  mental  troubles  are  referred. 
It  sometimes  rises  to  a  pitch  of  anguisli,  when  it  abolishes  the 
power  to  think,  destroys  the  feeling  of  identity,  and  causes 
Buch  unspeakable  suffering  and  despair  that  suicide  is  at- 
tempted or  accomplished.  In  other  cases  the  distressing  and 
indescribable  sensation  is  in  the  crown  of  the  head  or  down 
the  spine,  and  sometimes  it  arises  from  the  pelvic  organs.    In 


68  BODY  AND  MIND. 

all  cases  the  patients  oonnect  their  mental  trouble  with  it, 
regarding  it  as  the  cause  of  the  painful  confusion  of  thought, 
the  utter  inability  of  exertion,  the  distressing  ideas,  and  the 
paroxysm  of  despair.  Perhaps  they  exaggerate  its  impor- 
tance ;  but  there  can  be  little  doubt  that  writers  on  mental 
disorders,  too  exclusively  occupied  with  the  prominent  men- 
tal features,  have  not  hitherto  given  sufficient  attention  to 
these  anomalous  sensations.  We  have  been  apt  to  class  them 
as  hypochondriacal,  and  to  pass  them  over  as  of  no  special 
significance  ;  but  I  cannot  help  thinking  that,  properly  studied, 
they  may  sometimes  teach  us  more  of  the  real  nature  of  the 
particular  form  of  insanity — of  its  probable  course,  termina- 
tion, and  its  most  suitable  treatment — than  many  much  more 
obtrusive  symptoms. 

In  bringing  this  lecture  to  an  end,  I  may  fitly  point  out 
how  entirely  thus  far  the  observation  of  the  phenomena  of  de- 
fective and  disordered  mind  proves  their  essential  dependence 
on  defective  and  disordered  brain,  and  how  closely  they  are 
related  to  some  other  disordered  nervous  functions.  The  insane 
neurosis  which  the  child  inherits  in  consequence  of  its  par- 
ent's insanity  is  as  surely  a  defect  of  physical  nature  as  is 
the  epileptic  neurosis  to  which  it  is  so  closely  allied.  It  is  an 
indisputable  though  extreme  fact  that  certain  human  beings 
are  born  with  such  a  native  deficiency  of  mind  that  all  the 
training  and  education  in  the  world  will  not  raise  them  to 
the  height  of  brutes ;  and  I  believe  it  to  be  not  less  true  that, 
in  consequence  of  evil  ancestral  influences,  individuals  are 
born  with  such  a  flaw  or  warp  of  Nature  that  all  the  care  in 
the  world  will  not  prevent  them  from  being  vicious  or  crimi- 
nal, or  becoming  insane.  Education,  it  is  true,  may  do 
much,  and  the  circumstances  of  hfe  may  do  much ;  but  we 
cannot  forget  that  the  foundations  on  which  the  acquisitions 
of  education  must  rest  are  not  acquired,  but  inherited.  No 
one  can  escape  the  tyranny  of  his  organization  ;  no  one  can 
elude  the  destiny  that  is  innate  in  him,  and  which  uncon- 
sciously and  irresistibly  shapes  his  ends,  even  when  he  be- 


TYRANNY  OF  ORGANIZATION.  69 

lieves  that  lie  is  determining  tliem  with  consummate  fore- 
sight and  skill.  A  well-grounded  and  comprehensive  theory 
of  mind  must  recognize  and  embrace  these  facts  ;  they  meet 
us  every  moment  of  our  lives,  and  cannot  be  ignored  if  we 
are  in  earnest  in  our  attempts  to  construct  a  mental  science ; 
and  it  is  because  metaphysical  mental  philosophy  has  taken 
no  notice  whatever  of  them,  because  it  is  bound  by  the  prin- 
ciple of  its  existence  as  a  philosophy  to  ignore  them,  that, 
notwithstanding  the  labor  bestowed  on  it,  it  has  borne  no 
fruits — that,  as  Bacon  said  of  it,  "not  only  what  was  asserted 
once  is  asserted  still,  but  what  were  questions  once  are  ques- 
tions still,  and,  instead  of  being  resolved  by  discussion,  are 
only  fixed  and  fed." 


LECTUEE  m. 

Gentlemen  :  In  my  last  lecture  I  showed  how  large  a 
part  in  the  production  of  insanity  is  played  by  the  hereditary 
neurosis,  and  pointed  out  the  necessity  of  scrutinizing  more 
closely  than  has  yet  been  done  the  features  of  the  different 
forms  of  mental  derangement  that  own  its  baneful  influence. 
Past  aU  question  it  is  the  most  important  element  in  the 
causation  of  insanity.  It  cannot  be  in  the  normal  order  of 
events  that  a  healthy  organism  should  be  unable  to  bear  or- 
dinary mental  trials,  much  less  a  natural  physiological  func- 
tion such  as  the  evolution  of  puberty,  the  puerperal  state,  or 
the  climacteric  change.  When,  therefore,  the  strain  of  grief 
or  one  of  these  physiological  conditions  becomes  the  occa- 
sion of  an  outbreak  of  insanity,  we  must  look  for  the  root  of 
the  ill  in  some  natural  infirmity  or  instability  of  nerve-ele- 
ment. !N"ot  until  we  apply  ourselves  earnestly  to  an  exact 
observation  and  discrimination  of  all  the  mental  and  bodily 
conditions  which  cooperate  in  the  causation,  and  are  mani- 
fested in  the  symptoms,  of  the  manifold  varieties  of  insanity, 
shall  we  render  more  precise  and  satisfactory  our  knowledge 
of  its  causes,  its  classification,  and  its  treatment.  How  un  . 
scientific  it  appears  when  we  reflect,  to  enumerate,  as  is  com« 
monly  done,  sex  and  age  among  its  predisposing  causes  !  Xo 
one  goes  mad  because  he  or  she  happens  to  be  a  man  or  a 
woman,  but  because  to  each  sex,  and  at  certain  ages,  there 
occur  special  physiological  changes,  which  are  apt  to  run  into 
pathological  eftects  in  persons  predisposed  to  nervous   dis- 


HYSTERICAL  INSANITY.  71 

order.  How  often  it  happens  that  a  moral  cause  of  insanity 
is  sought  and  falsely  found  in  a  state  of  mind  such  as  grief 
or  jealousy,  which  is  really  an  early  symptom  of  the  disease! 
Again,  how  vague  and  unsatisfactory  the  accepted  psycho- 
logical classification  of  insanity,  under  which  forms  of  dis- 
ease distinct  enough  to  claim  separate  descriptions  are  in- 
cluded in  the  same  class !  It  is  obvious  that  we  learn  very 
little  of  value  from  an  account  of  the  treatment  of  mania 
generally  when  there  are  included  under  the  class  diseases  so 
different  as  puerperal  mania,  the  mania  of  general  paralysis, 
syphilitic,  epileptic,  and  hysterical  mania,  each  presenting 
features  and  requiring  treatment  in  some  degree  special. 
The  hope  and  the  way  of  advance  in  our  knowledge  of  men- 
tal disorders  lie  in  the  exact  observation  of  the  varieties  of 
tlie  insane  diathesis,  and  of  the  effects  of  bodily  functions 
and  disorders  upon  these ;  in  noting  carefully  the  bodily  as 
well  as  mental  symptoms  that  characterize  the  several  forms 
of  derangement  of  mind ;  and  in  tracing  the  relations  of 
mental  to  other  disorders  of  the  nervous  system.  TVe  must 
aim  to  distinguish  well  if  we  would  teach  well — to  separate 
the  cases  that  exhibit  special  features  and  relations,  and  to 
arrange  them  in  groups  or  classes  according  to  their  affinities, 
just  as  we  do  habitually  with  general  paralysis,  and  as  I  did 
in  my  last  lecture  with  epileptic  mania. 

Following  this  plan,  we  might  in  like  manner  make  of 
Jiysterical  insanity  a  special  variety.  An  attack  of  acute 
maniacal  excitement,  with  great  restlessness,  rapid  and  dis- 
connected but  not  entirely  incoherent  conversation,  some- 
times tending  to  the  erotic  or  obscene,  evidently  without 
abolition  of  consciousness ;  laughing,  singing,  or  rhyming, 
and  perverseness  of  conduct,  which  is  still  more  or  less  cohe- 
rent and  seemingly  wilful — may  occur  in  connection  with,  or 
instead  of,  the  usual  hysterical  convulsions.  Or  the  ordinary 
hysterical  symptoms  may  pass  by  degrees  into  chronic  insanity. 
Loss  of  power  of  will  is  a  characteristic  symptom  of  hysteria 
in  all  its  Protean  forms,  and  with  the  perverted  sensations 


72  BODY  AND  MIXD. 

and  disordered  movements  there  is  always  some  degree  of 
moral  perversion.  This  increases  until  it  swallows  up  the 
other  symptoms :  the  patient  loses  more  and  more  of  her 
energy  and  self-control,  becoming  capriciously  fanciful  about 
her  health,  imagining  or  feigning  strange  diseases,  and  keep- 
ing up  tiie  delusion  or  the  imposture  with  a  pertinacity  that 
ijiight  seem  incredible,  getting  more  and  more  impatient  of 
the  advice  and  interference  of  others,  and  indifferent  to  the 
interests  and  duties  of  her  position.  Outbursts  of  temper 
become  almost  outbreaks  of  mania,  particularly  at  the  men- 
strual periods.  An  erotic  tinge  may  be  observable  in  her 
manner  of  behavior;  and  occasionally  there  are  quasi- 
ecstatic  or  cataleptic  states.  It  is  an  easily-curable  form  of 
derangement  if  the  patient  be  removed  in  time  from  the  anx- 
ious but  hurtful  sympathies  and  attentions  of  her  family,  and 
placed  under  good  moral  control ;  but,  if  it  be  allowed  to  go 
on  unchecked,  it  will  end  in  dementia,  and  it  is  especially  apt 
to  do  so  when  there  is  a  marked  hereditary  predisposition. 

In  some  instances  we  observe  a  curious  connection  be- 
tween insanity  and  neuralgia,  not  unlike  that  which,  existing 
between  epilepsy  and  a  special  form  of  neuralgia,  induced 
Trousseau  to  describe  the  latter  as  epileptiform.  I  have  un- 
der observation  now  a  lady  who  suffered  for  some  time  from 
an  intense  neuralgia  of  the  left  half  of  the  face ;  after  the 
removal  of  a  tooth  suspected  to  be  at  the  root  of  the  mis- 
chief the  pain  ceased,  but  an  attack  of  melancholia  immedi- 
ately followed.  Griesinger  mentions  a  similar  case  of  a  gen- 
tleman under  his  care,  in  whom  a  double  occipital  neuralgia 
was  followed  by  a  melancholic  state  of  mind.  In  his  "  Com- 
mentaries on  Insanity,"  Dr.  Burrows  tells  of  a  very  eloquent 
divine  who  was  always  maniacal  when  free  from  pains  in  the 
spine,  and  sane  when  the  pains  returned  to  that  site.  And 
the  late  Sir  B.  Brodie  mentions  two  cases  of  a  similar  kind  : 
in  one  of  them  a  neuralgia  of  the  vertebral  column  alter- 
nated with  true  insanity.  These  cases  appear  to  be  instances 
of  the  transference  of  morbid  action  from  one  nerve-centre  to 


TRANSFORMATION   OF  NEUROSES.  73 

another,  sucli  as  Dr.  Darwin  formerly  noticed  and  commented 

on.     "Mrs,  0 ,"  he  says,  "was  seized  every  day,  about 

tlie  same  hour,  with  violent  pain  in  the  right  side  of  her  bow- 
els, about  the  situation  of  the  lower  edge  of  the  liver,  with- 
out fever,  which  increased  for  an  hour  or  two,  till  it  became 
quite  intolerable.  After  violent  screaming  she  fell  into  con- 
\n.ilsions,  which  terminated  sometimes  in  fainting,  with  or 
without  stertor,  as  in  common  epilepsy ;  at  other  times  a 
temporary  insanity  supervened,  which  continued  about  half 
an  hour,  and  the  fit  ceased."  It  seems  not  unreasonable  to 
suppose  that  the  morbid  action  in  the  sensory  centres,  which 
the  violent  neuralgia  implied,  was  at  one  time  transferred  to 
the  motor  centres,  giving  rise  to  con^ilsive  movements,  and 
at  another  time  to  the  mind-centres,  giving  rise  to  convulsive 
ideas.  There  is  a  form  of  neuralgia  which  is  the  analogue  of 
a  convulsion,  and  there  is  a  mania  which  is  the  counterpart, 
in  the  highest  nerve-centres,  of  neuralgia  and  comnilsions  in 
their  respective  centres.  Perhaps  if  we  had  the  power  in 
some  cases  of  acute  insanity  to  induce  artificially  a  violent 
neuralgia,  or  general  convulsions — to  transfer  the  morbid  ac- 
tion from  the  mind-centres — we  might,  for  the  time  being  at 
any  rate,  cure  the  insanity. 

I  pass  on  now  to  exhibit  the  eflfects  of  organic  sympathies 
in  the  causation  of  mental  disorders,  or  rather  the  specific 
efiects  of  particular  organs  upon  the  features  of  different 
forms  of  insanity.  In  my  first  lecture  I  pointed  out  that 
there  is  the  closest  physiological  consent  of  functions  be- 
tween the  different  organs;  that  the  brain,  as  the  organ  of 
mind,  joins  in  this  consent;  and  that  our  ideas  and  feelings 
are  obtained  by  the  concurrence  of  impressions  from  the 
internal  organs  of  the  body  and  the  external  organs  of  the 
senses.  The  consequence  is,  that  derangement  of  an  internal 
organ,  acting  upon  the  brain,  may  engender,  by  pathological 
sympathy,  morbid  feelings  and  their  related  ideas.  The 
mental  effects  may  be  general  or  specific :  a  general  emotional 
depression  through  which  all  ideas  loom  gloomy,  of  which 


74  BODY  AND  MIND. 

every  one's  experience  testifies;  and  a  special  morbid  feeling 
with  its  particular  sympathetic  ideas,  of  which  the  phenom- 
ena of  dreaming  and  insanity  yield  illustrations. 

The  slight  shades  of  this  kind  of  morbid  influence  we  can- 
not venture  to  trace;  but  it  is  easy  to  recognize  the  most 
marked  effects.  Take,  for  example,  the  irritation  of  ovariea 
or  uterus,  which  is  sometimes  the  direct  occasion  of  nympho- 
mania— a  disease  by  which  the  most  chaste  and  modest 
woman  is  transformed  into  a  raging  fury  of  lust.  Some  ob- 
servers have,  without  sufficient  reason  I  think,  made  of 
nymphomania  a  special  variety,  grouping  under  the  term 
cases  in  which  it  was  a  prominent  symptom.  But  it  certainly 
occurs  in  forms  of  mania  that  are  quite  distinct — in  puerperal 
mania,  for  example,  in  epileptic  mania,  and  in  the  mania 
sometimes  met  with  in  old  women ;  and  the  cases  in  which 
it  does  occur  have  not  such  characteristic  features  as  warrant 
tlie  formation  of  a  definite  group.  "We  have,  indeed,  to  note 
and  bear  in  mind  how  often  sexual  ideas  and  feelings  arise 
and  display  themselves  in  all  sorts  of  insanity ;  how  they 
connect  themselves  with  ideas  which  in  a  normal  mental 
state  have  no  known  relation  to  them ;  so  that  it  seems  as 
inexplicable  that  a  virtuous  person  should  ever  have  learned, 
as  it  is  distressing  that  she  should  manifest,  so  much  obscenity 
of  thought  and  feeling.  Perhaps  it  is  that  such  ideas  are  ex- 
cited sympathetically  in  a  morbidly  active  brain  by  unrelated 
ideas,  just  as,  in  other  nervous  disorders,  sympathetic  morbid 
sensations  and  movements  occur  in  parts  distant  from  the 
seat  of  the  primary  irritation.  Considering,  too,  what  an 
important  agent  in  the  evolution  of  mind  the  sexual  feeling 
is,  how  much  of  thought,  feeling,  and  energy  it  remotely  in- 
spires, there  is  less  cause  for  wonder  at  the  naked  interven- 
tion of  its  simple  impulses  in  the  phenomena  of  mania,  when 
coordination  of  function  is  abolished  in  the  supreme  centres, 
and  the  mind  resolved,  as  it  were,  into  its  primitive  animal 
elements.  This  should  teach  us  to  take  care  not  to  attribute 
too  hastily  the  sexual  feelings  to  a  morbid  irritation  of  the 


INSANITY  OF  rmBESCENCE.  75 

sexual  organs.  It  is  plain  that  they  may  have  a  purely  cen- 
tral origin,  just  as  the  excitation  of  them  in  health  may  pro- 
ceed from  the  mind.  Here,  in  fact,  as  in  other  cases,  we 
must  bear  in  mind  the  reciprocal  mfluence  of  mind  on  organ, 
and  of  organ  on  mind. 

The  great  mental  revolution  which  occurs  at  puberty  may 
go  beyond  its  physiological  limits,  in  some  instances,  and 
become  pathological.  The  vague  feelings,  blind  longings,  and 
obscure  impulses,  which  then  arise  in  the  mind,  attest  the 
awakening  of  an  impulse  which  knows  not  at  first  its  aim  or 
the  means  of  its  gratification  ;  a  kind  of  vague  and  yearning 
melancholy  is  engendered,  which  leads  to  an  abandonment  to 
poetry  of  a  gloomy  Byronic  kind,  or  to  indulgence  in  inde- 
finite religious  feelings  and  aspirations.  There  is  a  want  of 
some  object  to  fill  the  void  in  the  feelings,  to  satisfy  the 
undefined  yearning — a  need  of  something  to  adore;  con- 
sequently, where  there  is  no  visible  object  of  worship  the 
invisible  is  adored.  The  time  of  this  mental  revolution  is,  at 
best,  a  trying  period  for  youth ;  and,  where  there  is  an  in- 
herited infirmity  of  nervous  organization,  the  natural  dis- 
turbance of  the  mental  balance  may  easily  pass  into  actual 
destruction  of  it. 

The  form  of  derangement  connected  with  this  period  of 
life  I  believe  to  be  either  a  fanciful  and  quasi-hysterical 
melancholia,  which  is  not  very  serious  when  it  is  properly 
treated;  or  an  acute  mania,  which  is  apt  to  be  recurrent,  and 
is  much  more  serious.  The  former  occurs  especially  in  girls, 
if  it  be  not  peculiar  to  them ;  there  are  periods  of  depression 
and  paroxysms  of  apparently  causeless  weeping,  alternating 
with  times  of  undue  excitability,  more  especially  at  the 
menstrual  periods;  a  disinclination  is  evinced  to  work,  to 
rational  amusement,  to  exertion  of  any  kind  ;  the  behavior  is 
capricious,  and  soon  becomes  perverse  and  wilful ;  the  natural 
alfections  seem  to  be  blunted  or  abolished,  the  patient  taking 
pleasure  in  distressing  those  whose  feelings  she  would  most 
consider  when  in  health;  and,  although  there  are  no  fixed 


75  BODY  AND  MIXD. 

delusions,  there  are  unfounded  suspicions  or  fears  and  chan- 
ging morbid  fancies.  The  anxious  sympathies  of  those  most 
dear  are  apt  to  foster  the  morbid  self-feeling  which  craves 
them,  and  thus  to  aggravate  the  disease:  what  such  patients 
need  to  learn  is,  not  the  indulgence  but  a  forgetfulness  of 
their  feelings,  not  the  observation  but  the  renunciation  of 
self,  not  introspection  but  useful  action.  In  some  of  these 
cases,  where  the  disease  has  become  chronic,  delusions  of 
sexiTal  origin  occur,  and  the  patient  whose  virginity  is  intact 
imagines  that  she  is  pregnant  or  has  had  a  baby. 

The  morbid  self-feeling  that  has  its  root  in  the  sexual  sys- 
tem is  not  unapt  to  take  on  a  religious  guise.  "We  observe 
examples  of  this  in  certain  members  of  those  latter-day  reli- 
gious sects  which  profess  to  commingle  religion  and  love,  and 
which  especially  abound  in  America.  K"o  physiologist  can 
well  doubt  that  the  holy  kiss  of  love  in  such  cases  owes  all 
its  warmth  to  the  sexnal  feeling  which  consciously  or  uncon- 
sciously inspires  it,  or  that  the  mystical  union  of  the  sexes 
lies  very  close  to  a  union  that  is  nowise  mystical,  when  it  does 
not  lead  to  madness.  A  similar  intimate  connection  between 
fanatical  religious  exaltation  and  sexual  excitement  is  exem- 
plified by  the  lives  of  such  religions  enthusiasts  as  St.  Theresa 
and  St.  Catherine  de  Sienne,  whose  nightly  trances  and 
visions,  in  which  they  believed  themselves  received  as  verita- 
ble spouses  into  the  bosom  of  Christ  and  transported  into  an 
unspeakable  ecstasy  by  the  touch  of  His  sacred  lips,  attested, 
though  they  knew  it  not,  the  influence  of  excited  sexual  or- 
gans on  the  mind.  More  extreme  examples  of  a  like  patho- 
logical action  are  afforded  by  those  insane  women  who  be- 
lieve themselves  to  be  visited  by  lovers  or  ravished  by  perse- 
cutors during  the  night.  Sexual  hallucinations,  betraying 
an  ovarian  or  uterine  excitement,  might  almost  be  described 
as  the  characteristic  feature  of  the  insanity  of  old  maids ;  the 
false  visions  of  unreal  indulgence  being  engendered  probably 
in  the  same  way  as  visions  of  banquets  occur  in  the  dreams 
of  a  starving  person,  or  as  visions  of  cooling  streams  to  one 


PERIODIC  INSANITY.  7*? 

who  is  perisliing  of  tliirst.  It  seems  to  be  the  fact  that,  al- 
though women  bear  sexual  excesses  better  than  men,  tliey 
Buffer  more  than  men  do  from  the  entire  deprivation  of  sexual 
intercourse. 

The  development  of  puberty  may  lead  indirectly  to  insanity 
by  becoming  the  occasion  of  a  vicious  habit  of  self-abuse  in 
men ;  and  it  is  not  always  easy  to  say  in  such  cases  how  much 
of  the  evil  is  due  to  pubescence  and  how  much  to  self-abuse. 
But  the  form  of  mental  derangement  directly  traceable  to 
self-abuse  has  certainly  characteristic  features.  There  are 
no  acute  symptoms,  the  onset  of  the  disease  being  most  grad- 
ual. The  patient  becomes  offensively  egotistic  and  impracti- 
cable ;  ho  is  full  of  self-feeling  and  self-conceit ;  insensible 
to  the  claims  of  others  upon  him,  and  of  his  duties  to  them  ; 
interested  only  in  hypochondriacally  watching  his  morbid 
sensations,  and  attending  to  his  morbid  feelings.  His  mental 
energy  is  sapped ;  and  though  he  has  extravagant  pretensions, 
and  often  speaks  of  great  projects  engendered  by  his  con- 
ceit, he  never  works  systematically  for  any  aim,  but  exhibits 
an  incredible  vacillation  of  conduct,  and  spends  his  days  in 
indolent  and  suspicious  self-brooding.  His  relatives  he  thinks 
hostile  to  him,  because  they  do  not  take  the  interest  in  his 
sufferings  which  he  craves,  nor  yield  sufficiently  to  his  pre- 
tensions, but  perhaps  urge  him  to  some  kind  of  work ;  he  is 
utterably  incapable  of  conceiving  that  he  has  duties  to  them. 
As  matters  get  worse,  the  general  suspicion  of  the  hostility 
of  people  takes  more  definite  form,  and  delusions  spring  up 
that  persons  speak  offensively  of  him,  or  watch  him  in  the 
street,  or  comment  on  what  passes  in  his  mind,  or  play  tricks 
upon  him  by  electricity  or  mesmerism,  or  in  some  other  mys- 
terious way.  His  delusions  are  the  objective  explanation, 
by  wrong  imagination,  of  the  perverted  feelings.  Messages 
may  be  received  from  Heaven  by  peculiar  telegraphic  signals; 
and  there  are  occasionally  quasi-cataleptic  trances.  It  is 
strange  what  exalted  feelings  and  high  moral  and  religious 
aims  these  patients  will  often  declare  they  have,  who,  incapa- 


78  BODY  AND  MIND. 

ble  of  reforming  themselves,  are  ready  to  reform  the  world. 
A  later  and  worse  stage  is  one  of  moody  or  vacant  self-ab- 
Borj)tion,  and  of  extreme  loss  of  mental  power.  They  are 
Bilent,  or,  if  they  converse,  they  discover  delusions  of  a  sus- 
picious or  obscene  character,  the  perverted  sexual  passion 
still  giving  the  color  to  their  thoughts.  They  die  miserable 
wrecks  at  the  last.  This  is  a  form  of  insanity  which  certainly 
has  its  special  exciting  cause  and  its  characteristic  features ; 
nevertheless,  I  think  that  self-abuse  seldom,  if  ever,  produces 
it  without  the  cooperation  of  the  insane  neurosis. 

The  monthly  activity  of  tlie  ovaries  which  marks  the  ad- 
vent of  puberty  in  women  has  a  notable  effect  upon  the  mind 
and  body ;  wherefore  it  may  become  an  important  cause  of 
mental  and  physical  derangement.  Most  women  at  that 
time  are  susceptible,  irritable,  and  capricious,  any  cause  of 
vexation  affecting  them  more  seriously  than  usual;  and 
some  who  have  the  insane  neurosis  exhibit  a  disturbance  of 
mind  which  amounts  almost  to  disease.  A  sudden  suppres- 
sion of  the  menses  has  produced  a  direct  explosion  of  insan- 
ity ;  or,  occurring  some  time  before  an  .outbreak,  it  may  be 
an  important  link  in  its  causation.  It  is  a  matter  also  of  com- 
mon experience  in  asylums,  that  exacerbations  of  insanity 
often  take  place  at  the  menstrual  periods ;  but  whether  there 
is  a  particular  variety  of  mental  derangement  connected  with 
disordered  menstruation,  and,  if  so,  what  are  its  special  fea- 
tures, we  are  not  yet  in  a  position  to  say  positively.  There  is 
certainly  a  recurrent  mania,  which  seems  sometimes  to  have, 
in  regard  to  its  origin  and  the  times  of  its  attacks,  a  relation 
to  the  menstrual  function,  suppression  or  irregularity  of 
which  often  accompanies  it ;  and  it  is  an  obvious  presump- 
tion that  the  mania  may  be  a  sympathetic  morbid  effect  of 
tlie  ovarian  and  uterine  excitement,  and  may  represent  an 
exaggeration  of  the  mental  irritability  which  is  natural  to 
women  at  that  period.  The  patient  becomes  elated,  hila- 
rious, talkative,  passing  soon  from  that  condition  into  a  state 
of  acute  and  noisy  mania,  which  may  last  for  two  or  three 


RECURRENT  INSANITY.  79 

weeks  or  longer,  and  then  sinking  into  a  brief  stage  of  more 
or  less  depression  or  confusion  of  mind,  from  which  she 
awakens  to  calmness  and  clearness  of  mind.  In  vain  we 
flatter  ourselves  with  the  hope  of  a  complete  recovery ;  after 
an  interval  of  perfect  lucidity,  of  varying  duration  in  differ- 
ent cases,  the  attack  recurs,  goes  through  the  same  stages, 
and  ends  in  the  same  way,  only  to  be  followed  by  other  at- 
tacks, until  at  last,  the  mind  being  permanently  weakened, 
there  are  no  longer  intervals  of  entire  lucidity.  Could  we 
stop  the  attacks,  the  patient  might  still  regain  by  degrees 
mental  power ;  but  we  cannot.  All  the  resources  of  our  art 
fail  to  touch  them,  and  I  know  no  other  form  of  insanity 
which,  having  so  much  the  air  of  being  curable,  thus  far  de- 
fies all  efforts  to  stay  its  course.  We  should  be  apt  to  con- 
clude that  it  was  connected  with  the  menstrual  function, 
were  it  not  that  periodicity  is  more  or  less  the  law  of  all  ner- 
vous diseases,  that  its  attacks  often  recur  at  uncertain  inter- 
vals, and,  more  decisive  still,  that  it  is  not  confined  to  women, 
but  occurs  perhaps  as  often  in  men.  "Whether  connected  or 
not,  however,  in  any  way  with  the  generative  functions,  it 
certainly  presents  features  of  relationship  to  epilepsy,  and 
occurs  where  the  insane  neurosis  exists;  and,  if  I  were  to 
describe  it  in  a  few  words,  I  should  designate  it  an  epilepsy 
of  the  mind.  Its  recurrence  more  or  less  regularly ;  the 
uniformity  of  the  prodromata  and  of  the  symptoms  of  the 
attack,  each  being  almost  an  exact  image  of  the  other ;  its 
comparatively  brief  duration ;  the  mental  torpor  or  confu- 
sion which  follows  it,  and  the  ignorance  or  denial  sometimes, 
on  the  part  of  the  patient,  of  his  having  had  the  attack  ;  the 
temporary  recovery ;  and  the  undoubted  fact  that  it  often 
occurs  where  there  is  evidence  of  an  insane  neurosis  pro- 
duced by  epilepsy,  or  insanity,  or  both,  in  the  family ;  these 
are  facts  which  support  the  opinion  of  its  kinship  to  epilepsy. 
I  have  under  my  care  an  unmarried  lady  who  for  many  years 
has  been  subject  to  these  recurrent  attacks  of  mania,  and 
whose  intelligence  has  now  been  destroyed  by  them ;  ulti- 


80 


BODY  AND  MIND. 


mately  true  epileptic  fits  supervened,  but- they  only  occur,  at 
long  intervals,  usually  not  oftener  than  twice  a  year,  while 
the  maniacal  attacks  recur  regularly  every  three  or  four 
weeks.     It  is  of  some  interest,  in  regard  to  the  question  of 
its  nature,  that  the  age  of  its  most  frequent  outbreak  is,  as  it 
is  with  epilepsy,  the  years  that  cover  the  development  of 
puberty.     Irregularity  or  suppression  of  menstruation  may 
or  may  not  be  present,  so  that  we  are  not  warranted  in  at- 
ibuting  the  disease  to  amenorrhoea  or  dysmenorrhoea ;  we  are 
le  less  warranted  in  doing  so,  as  any  form  of  insanity,  how- 
ler caused,  may  occasion  a  suppression  of  the  menses. 

The  natural  cessation  of  menstruation  at  the  change  of 
Mfe  is  accompanied  by  a  revolution  in  the  economy  which  is 
■rten  trying  to  the  mental  stability  of  those  who  have  a  pre- 
isposition  to  insanity.    The  age  of  pleasing  is  past,  but  not 
,  ways  the  desire,  which,  indeed,  sometimes  grows  then  more 
^acting ;  there  are  all  sorts  of  anomalous  sensations  of  bod- 
y  distress,  attesting  the  disturbance  of  circulation  and  of 
.  erve  functions ;  and  it  is  now  that  an  insane  jealousy  and  a 
propensity  to  stimulants  are  apt  to  appear,  especially  where 
there  have  been  no  children.     "When  positive  insanity  breaks 
out,  it  usually  has  the  form  of  profound  melancholia,  with 
vague  delusions  of  an  extreme  character,  as  that  the  world  is 
in  flames,  that  it  is  turned  upside  down,  that  every  thing  is 
changed,  or  that  some  very  dreadful  but  undefined  calamity 
has  happened  or  is  about  to  happen.     The  countenance  has 
the  expression  of  a  vague  terror  and  apprehension.     In  some 
cases  short  and  transient  paroxysms  of  excitement  break  the 
melancholy  gloom.     These  usually  occur  at  the  menstrual 
periods,  and  may  continue  to  do  so  for  some  time  after  the 
function  has  ceased.     It  is  not  an  unfavorable  form  of  in- 
sanity as  regards  probabihty  of  recovery  under  suitable  treat- 
ment. 

Continuing  the  consideration  of  the  influence  of  the  gen- 
erative organs  in  the  production  of  insanity,  I  come  now  to 
puerperal  insanity.     Under  this  name  are  sometimes  con- 


PUERPERAL   INSANITY.  81 

founded  three  distinct  varieties  of  disease — that  which  occurs 
during  pregnancy,  that  which  follows  parturition  and  is 
properly  puerperal,  and  that  which  comes  on  months  after- 
ward during  lactation.*  The  insanity  of  pregnancy  is,  as  a 
rule,  of  a  marked  melancholic  type,  with  suicidal  tendency ; 
a  degree  of  mental  weakness  or  apparent  dementia  heing 
sometimes  conjoined  with  it.  Other  cases,  however,  exhibit 
much  moral  perversion,  perhaps  an  uncontrollable  craving 
for  stimulants,  which  we  may  regard  as  an  exaggerated  display 
of  the  fanciful  cravings  from  which  women  suffer  in  the 
earlier  months  of  pregnancy.  We  can  hardly  fail,  indeed,  to 
recognize  a  connection  between  the  features  of  this  form  of 
insanity  and  the  strange  longings,  the  capriciousness,  and  t'  le 
morbid  fears,  of  the  pregnant  woman.  The  patient  may  be 
treated  successfully  by  removal  from  home ;  but,  if  the  dis- 
ease be  allowed  to  go  on,  there  is  no  good  ground  to  expect 
that  parturition  will  have  a  beneficial  effect  upon  it;  on  the 
contrary,  the  probability  is,  that  it  will  run  into  a  severe  puer- 
peral insanity,  and  from  that  into  dementia. 

Puerperal  insanity  proper  comes  on  within  one  month  of 
parturition :  and,  like  the  insanity  of  pregnancy,  occurs  most 
often  in  primiparae.  The  statistics  of  the  Edinburgh  Asylum 
show  that  in  all  the  cases  occurring  before  the  sixteenth  day 
after  labor,  as  most  cases  do,  the  symptoms  were  those  of 
acute  mania ;  but  in  all  the  cases  which  occurred  after  the 
sixteenth  day  they  were  those  of  melancholia.  In  both  forms, 
but  especially  in  the  latter,  there  is  sometimes  a  mixture  of 
childishness  and  apparent  dementia.  The  mania  is  more 
likely  than  the  melancholia  to  get  well.  It  is  of  an  acute  and 
extremely  incoherent  character,  a  delirious  rather  than  a  sys- 
tematized mania,  marked  by  noisy  restlessness,  sleeplessness, 
tearing  of  clothes,  hallucinations,  and  in  some  cases  by  great 
salacity,  which  is  probably  the  direct  mental  effect  of  the  irri- 
tation of  the  generative  organs.     Suicide  may  be  attempted 

*  "  Tlie  Insanity  of  Pretjnancy.  Puerperal  Insauity,  and  Insanity  ol 
Lactation."    By  J.  Batty  Tuke,  M,  D. 


62  BODY  AND  MIND. 

in  an  excited,  purposeless  way.  The  bodily  symptoms,  con- 
tradicting the  violence  of  the  mental  excitement,  indicate 
feebleness;  the  features  are  pinched;  the  skin  is  pale,  cold, 
and  clammy ;  and  the  pulse  is  quick,  small,  and  irritable. 
We  may  safely  say  that  recovery  takes  place  in  three  out  of 
four  cases  of  puerperal  mania,  usually  in  a  few  weeks ;  the 
patient,  after  the  acute  symptoms  have  subsided,  sinking  into 
a  temporary  state  of  confusion  and  feebleness  of  mind,  and 
then  waking  up  as  from  a  dream.  I  may  add  the  expression 
of  a  conviction  th.'a.t  no  good,  but  rather  harm,  is  done  by 
attempting  to  stifl<?  this  or  any  other  form  of  acute  insanity 
by  the  administration  of  large  doses  of  opium. 

The  insanity  of  lactation  does  not  come  under  the  scheme 
of  this  lecture  •  for  it  is  an  asthenic  insanity,  produced  by 
bodily  exhaustion  and  the  depression  of  mental  worries.  The 
time  of  its  occurrence  seems  to  show  that  the  longer  the 
child  is  suckled  the  greater  is  the  liability  to  it ;  and  in  the 
majority  of  cpses  it  has  the  form  of  melancholia,  often  with 
determined  su\cidal  tendency. 

So  fr^^ueKly  is  hereditary  predisposition  more  or  less 
distinctly  traceable  in  these  three  forms  of  insanity  occurring 
in  conne^iioD  with  child-bearing,  that  we  are  warranted  in 
declaring'  it  o^ite  exceptional  for  any  one  of  them  to  be  met 
with  where  it  is  entirely  absent. 

I  have  no^  enumerated  all  the  forms  of  insanity  which, 
being  speoiaPy  connected  with  the  generative  organs,  pre- 
sent charocteristic  features.  It  is  certain,  however,  that  dis- 
ease of  them  may  act  as  a  powerful  cooj)erating  cause  in  the 
orod'jction  ^f  insanity,  without  giving  rise,  so  far  as  we 
know,  to  a  special  group  of  sjTnptoms.  Thus,  for  example, 
melancholia,  distinguishable  by  no  feature  fi-om  melancholia 
otherwise  caused,  may  be  the  eflect  of  disease  of  the  uterus. 
Schroder  van  der  Kolk  mentions  the  case  of  a  woman  pro- 
foundly melancholic  who  suffered  from  prolapsus  uteri,  and 
m  whom  the  melancholia  disappeared  when  the  uterus  was 
returned  to  its  proper  place,     ilenmiing  relates  two  similar 


SYMPATHETIC  INSANITY.  83 

cases  in  which  melancholia  was  cured  bj  the  use  of  a  pessary, 
the  depression  returning  in  one  of  them  whenever  the  pessary 
was  removed ;  and  I  have  met  with  one  case  in  which  pro- 
found melancholia  of  two  years'  standing  disappeared  aftei 
the  removal  of  a  prolapsus  uteri.  Other  diseases  and  dis- 
placements of  the  uterus  may  act  in  a  similar  way. 

Let  me  now  say  a  few  words  concerning  the  abdominal 
organs.  No  one  will  call  in  question  that  the  states  of  their 
functions  do  exert  a  positive  influence  on  our  states  of  mind ; 
but  it  is  unfortunately  too  true  that  we  cannot  yet  refer  any 
special  mental  symptoms  to  the  influence  of  the  abdominal 
organs.  I  have  met  with  one  case  of  severe  melancholia,  of 
long  standing,  which  was  distinctly  cured  by  the  expulsion 
of  a  tape-worm ;  and  it  appears  to  be  tolerably  certain  that 
hypochondriacal  insanity  is  in  some  instances  connected 
with,  if  not  caused  by,  a  perverted  sensation  proceeding  from 
an  internal  organ,  most  often  abdominal.  In  health  we  are 
not  conscious  of  the  impressions  which  these  organs  make 
upon  the  brain,  albeit  they  assuredly  send  their  unperceived 
contributions  to  the  stream  of  energies  of  which  conscious- 
ness is  the  sum  and  the  outcome ;  but,  when  a  disordered  or- 
gan sends  a  morbid  impression  to  the  brain,  it  no  longer  does 
its  work  there  in  silence  and  self-suppression,  but  asserts 
itself  in  an  unwonted  afi'ection  of  consciousness.  The  hypo- 
chondriac cannot  withdraw  his  attention  from  the  morbid 
sensation  to  which  it  is  irresistibly  attracted,  and  which  it 
aggravates;  his  interest  in  all  things  else  is  gradually 
quenched,  and  his  ability  to  think  and  act  freely  in  the  rela- 
tions of  life  sapped.  The  step  from  this  state  to  positive  in- 
sanity is  not  a  great  one  :  the  strange  and  distressing  sensation, 
being  so  anomalous,  so  unlike  any  thing  of  which  the  patient 
has  had  experience,  affecting  him  so  powerftilly  and  so  unac- 
countably, gets  at  last  an  interpretation  that  seems  suited  to 
its  extraordinary  character;  and  he  then  imagines  that  some 
animal  or  man  or  devil  has  got  inside  him  and  is  tormenting 
him.     He  has  now  a  hallucination  of  the  organic  sense  which 


84  BODY  AXD  MIND. 

dominates  his  thoughts,  and  he  is  truly  insane.  Not  long  since 
I  saw  a  patient  who  believed  that  he  had  a  man  in  his  belly ; 
wlien  his  bowels  were  constipated,  the  delusion  became  active, 
be  made  desperate  efforts  by  vomiting  to.getrid  of  his  torment- 
or, and  was  then  surly,  morose,  and  dangerous ;  but,  when 
his  bowels  had  been  relieved,  the  delusion  subsided  into  the 
background,  and  he  was  good-tempered  and  industrious.  If 
a  patient,  instead  of  attributing  his  sufferings  to  an  absurdly 
impossible  cause,  ascribes  them  to  a  serious  internal  disease 
wliich  he  certainly  has  not  got,  there  wiU  be  a  diflficulty  in 
deciding  whether  he  is  insane  or  not,  should  he  do  injury  to 
himself  or  others,  as  hypochondriacal  melancholies  sometimes 
do.  It  is  a  probable  surmise  that  in  those  cases  of  insanity  in 
which  there  are  such  delusions  as  that  food  will  not  enter 
the  stomach,  that  there  is  no  digestion,  that  the  intestines 
are  sealed  up,  there  is  a  cause  in  a  morbid  irritation  ascend- 
ing from  the  viscera  to  the  brain.  I  am  furthermore  dis- 
posed to  think  that  a  form  of  fearfal  melancholia  in  which 
the  patient  evinces  an  extreme  morbid  sensitiveness  to  his 
every  thought,  feeling,  and  act,  in  which  he  is,  as  it  were, 
hypochondriacally  distressed  about  whatever  he  thinks,  feels, 
and  does,  imagining  it,  however  trivial  and  innocent,  to  be  a 
great  sin,  which  has  cost  him  his  happiness  in  time  and  eter- 
nity, has  its  foundation  in  certain  morbid  states  of  abdominal 
sensation.  In  cases  of  this  sort,  the  delusion  is  not  the  cause 
of  the  feeling  of  despair,  but  is,  as  it  were,  a  condensation 
from  it,  and  an  attempted  interpretation  of  it.  The  same 
thing  is  observed  in  dreams  :  the  images  and  events  of  a  dis- 
tressing dream  are  not  the  causes  of  tlie  feelings,  but  are 
caused  by  them;  they  undergo  strange  and  sudden  meta- 
morphoses without  causing  much  or  any  surprise,  and  they 
disappear  together  with  the  terror  the  moment  we  awake, 
which  would  not  be  the  case  if  they  really  caused  the  terror. 
We  perceive,  indeed,  in  this  generation  of  the  image  out  of 
the  feeling,  the  d(>monstration  of  the  true  nature  of  ghosts 
and  apparitions-    the  nervous  system  being  in  an  excited 


PANPHOBIA.  86 

state  of  expectant  fear,  and  the  images  being  the  effects  and 
exponents  of  the  feeling:  they  give  the  vague  terror  form. 
Accordingly,  as  Coleridge  has  remarked,  those  who  see  a 
ghost  under  such  circumstances  do  not  suffer  much  in  conse- 
quence, though  in  telling  the  story  they  will  perhaps  say  that 
their  hair  stood  on  end,  and  that  they  were  in  an  agony  of  terror: 
whereas  those  who  have  been  really  fi-ightened  by  a  figure 
dressed  up  as  a  ghost  have  often  suffered  seriously  from  the 
shock,  having  fainted,  or  had  a  fit,  or  gone  mad.  In  like  man- 
ner, if  an  insane  person  actually  saw  the  dreadful  things  which 
he  imagines  that  he  sees  sometimes,  and  really  thought  the  ter- 
rible thoughts  which  he  imagines  he  thinks,  he  would  suffer  in 
health  more  than  he  does,  if  he  did  not  actually  die  of  them. 
I  come  now  to  the  thoracic  organs.  The  heart  and 
the  lungs  are  closely  connected  in  their  functions,  so  that 
they  mutually  affect  one  another.  Some  diseases  of  the 
lungs  greatly  oppress  and  trouble  the  heart ;  yet  there  is 
reason  to  believe  that  they  have  their  special  effects  upon 
the  mind.  How,  indeed,  can  we  think  otherwise  when  we 
contrast  the  sanguine  confidence  of  the  consumptive  patient 
with  the  anxious  fear  and  apprehension  exhibited  in  some 
diseases  of  the  heart  ?  It  used  to  be  said  that  disease  of  the 
heart  was  more  frequent  among  the  insane  than  among  the 
sane ;  but  the  latest  observations  do  not  afford  any  support 
to  the  opinion,  nor  do  they  furnish  valid  grounds  to  connect 
a  particular  variety  of  insanity  with  heart-disease  in  those 
cases  in  which  it  does  exist.  All  that  we  are  thus  far  war- 
ranted in  affirming  is,  that  if  there  be  a  characteristic  mental 
effect  of  such  disease,  it  is  a  great  fear,  mounting  up  at  times 
to  despairing  anguish  ;  and  perhaps  I  may  venture  to  add 
that,  if  there  be  a  variety  of  mental  disorder  specifically  con- 
nected with  heart-disease,  it  is  that  form  of  melancholia  in 
which  the  patient  is  overwhelmed  with  a  vague  and  vast 
apprehension,  where  there  is  not  so  much  a  definite  delusion 
as  a  dreadful  fear  of  every  thing  actual  and  possible,  and 
which  is  sometimes  described  as  panphoMa. 


gQ  BODY  AND  MIXD. 

There  has  long  been  an  opinion,  which  seems  to  be  well 
founded,  that  tubercle  of  the  lungs  is  more  common  among 
tlie  insane  than  among  the  sane.  For  although  the  propor- 
tion of  deaths  in  asjlums  attributed  to  phthisis  is  one-fourth, 
which  is  the  same  proportion  as  that  for  tlie  sane  population 
above  fourteen  years  of  age,  Dr.  Clouston  has  shown,  by 
careful  scrutiny  of  the  records  of  282  post-mortem  examina- 
tions made  in  the  Edinburgh  Asylum,  that  phthisis  was  the 
assigned  cause  of  death  in  only  a  little  more  than  half  of  the 
cases  in  which  there  was  tubercle  in  the  body.  The  symp- 
toms of  phthisis  are  so  much  masked  in  the  insane,  there 
being  usually  no  cough  and  no  expectoration,  that  its  diag- 
nosis is  difficult,  and  it  is  not  always  detected  during  life. 
The  relation  between  it  and  insanity  has  been  noticed  by 
several  writers :  Schroder  van  der  Kolk  was  distinctly  of 
opinion  that  an  hereditary  predisposition  to  phthisis  might 
predispose  to,  or  develop  into,  insanity,  and,  on  the  other 
hand,  that  insanity  predisposed  to  phthisis ;  and  Dr.  Clous- 
ton  found  that  hereditary  prediposition  to  insanity  existed  in 
seven  per  cent,  more  of  the  insane  who  were  tubercular  than 
of  the  insane  generally.  When  family  degeneration  is  far 
gone,  the  two  diseases  appear  to  occur  frequently,  and  the 
last  member  is  likely  to  die  insane  or  phthisical,  or  both ; 
whether,  therefore,  they  mutually  predispose  to  one  another 
or  not,  they  are  often  concomitant  effects  in  the  course  of 
degeneration.  However,  in  weighing  the  specific  value  of 
these  observations,  we  must  not  forget  that,  independently 
of  any  special  relation,  the  enfeebled  nutrition  of  tuberculosis 
will  tend  to  stimulate  into  activity  the  latent  predisposition 
to  insanity ;  and  that,  in  like  manner,  insanity,  especially  in 
its  melancholic  forms,  will  favor  the  actual  development  of  a 
predisposition  to  phthisis. 

In  the  cases  in  which  the  development  of  phthisis  and 
insanity  has  been  nearly  contemporaneous,  which  are  about 
one-fourth  of  the  cases  in  which  they  coexist,  the  mental 
8ymi)toms  are  of  so  peculiar  and  uniform  a  character  as  to 


PHTHISICAL  MANIA.  Si 

have  led  to  the  inclusion  of  the  cases  in  a  natural  group 
under  tlie  designation  of  phthisical  mania.  They  have  no 
positively  distinctive  symptom,  it  is  true ;  they  cannot  be 
separated  from  other  cases  by  a  well-defined  line  of  demar- 
cation. Yet  they  do  exhibit,  Dr.  Clouston  believes,  certain 
common  and  uniform  characters  which  justify  their  descrip- 
tion as  a  separate  variety.  They  often  begin  in  an  insidious 
way  by  irritability,  waywardness,  and  capriciousness  of  con- 
duct, and  apparent  weakening  of  intellect ;  yet  the  patient 
converses  rationally  w^hen  he  chooses  to  talk,  and  shows  that 
he  still  has  his  intellect,  albeit  there  is  a  great  disinclination 
to  exert  it.  To  sign  a  certificate  of  his  insanity  would  be  no 
easy  matter.  Or  they  begin  with  an  acutely  maniacal  oi 
melancholic  stage,  which  is,  however,  of  very  short  duration, 
soon  passing  into  a  half-maniacal,  half-demented  state.  If 
there  be  a  single  characteristic  feature,  it  is  a  monomania  of 
suspicion.  As  the  disease  advances,  the  symptoms  of  de- 
mentia predominate  ;  but  there  are  occasional  brief  attacks 
of  irritable  excitement  and  fitful  flashes  of  intelligence.  And 
in  these  cases,  more  often  tlian  in  other  cases,  there  occurs  a 
momentary  revival  of  intelligence  before  death.  We  shall 
the  more  readily  admit  the  special  features  of  phthisical 
mania  when  we  call  to  mind  that  there  is  in  most  phthisical 
patients  a  peculiar  mental  state ;  and  that  brief  attacks  of 
temporary  mania  or  delirium  sometimes  occur  in  the  course 
of  phthisis.  The  phthisical  patient  is  irritable,  fanciful,  un- 
stable of  purpose,  brilliant,  and  imaginative,  but  wanting  in 
calmness  and  repose,  quick  of  insight,  but  without  depth  and 
comprehension  ;  every  thing  is  fitful — fitful  energy,  fitful  pro- 
jects, fitful  flashes  of  imagination.  The  hectic  is  in  his 
thoughts  and  in  his  actions.  The  whims  and  imaginings  of 
his  mind  become  almost  wanderings  at  times,  his  fancies 
almost  delusions. 

I  have  now  said  enough  concerning  the  sympathetic 
mental  eflfccts  of  disordered  organs,  not  certainly  to  set  forth 
adequately  their  nature,  but  to  show  the  essential  importanco 


88  BODY  AND  MIND. 

of  a  careful  study  of  them.  To  complete  the  exposition  of 
the  action  of  pathological  sympathies  on  mind,  it  would  be 
necessary  to  trace  out  the  close  relations  that  there  are 
between  the  organic  feelings  and  the  different  kinds  of  special 
sensibility — between  systemic  and  sense  consciousLess.  The 
digestive  organs  have  a  close  sympathy  with  the  sense  of 
taste,  as  we  observe  in  the  bad  taste  accompanying  indiges- 
tion, in  the  nausea  and  vomiting  which  a  nauseous  taste 
may  cause,  and  in  the  avoidance  of  poisonous  matter  by 
animals.  The  respiratory  organs  and  the  sense  of  smell  are, 
in  like  manner,  s;yTnpathetically  associated ;  and  there  can  be 
no  doubt  that  the  sense  of  smell  has  special  relations  with  the 
sexual  feeling.  The  state  of  the  digestive  organs  notably 
affects  the  general  sensibility  of  the  skin.  Disturbances  of 
these  physiological  sympathies  may  become  the  occasions  of 
insane  delusions.  Digestive  derangement,  perverting  tlie 
taste,  will  engender  a  delusion  that  the  food  is  poisoned. 
Disease  of  the  respiratory  organs  appears  sometimes  to  pro- 
duce disagreeable  smells,  which  are  then  perhaps  attributed 
to  objective  causes,  such  as  the  presence  of  a  corpse  in  the 
room,  or  to  gases  maliciously  disseminated  in  it  by  fancied 
persecutors.  In  mania,  smell  and  taste  are  often  grossly  per- 
verted, for  the  patient  will  devour,  with  seeming  relish  and 
avidity,  dirt  and  garbage  of  the  most  offensive  kind.  Increase, 
diminution,  or  perversion  of  the  sensibility  of  the  skin,  one 
or  other  of  which  is  not  uncommon  among  the  insane,  may 
undoubtedly  be  the  cause  of  extrav-agant  delusions.  We 
hardly,  indeed,  realize  how  completely  the  mind  is  dependent 
upon  the  habit  of  its  sensations.  The  man  who  has  lost  a 
limb  can  hardly  be  persuaded  that  he  has  lost  it,  so  sensible 
is  he  of  the  accustomed  feelings  in  it ;  years  after  he  has  lost 
it  he  dreams  of  vivid  sensations  and  of  active  movements  in 
it — has,  in  fact,  both  sensory  and  motor  hallucinations.  It  is 
easy,  then,  to  understand  how  greatly  abnormal  sensations 
may  perplex  and  deceive  the  unsound  mind.  A  woman  under 
Esquirol's  care   had  couij)l<'to   ana'sthcsia  of  the  skin:    she 


HALLUCINATIONS.  89 

believed  that  the  devil  had  carried  off  her  body.  A  soldier 
who  was  wounded  at  the  battle  of  Austerlitz  lost  the  sensibil- 
ity of  his  skin,  and  from  that  time  thought  himself  dead. 
When  asked  how  he  was,  he  replied,  "Lambert  no  longer 
lives ;  a  cannon-ball  carried  him  away  at  Austerlitz.  "What 
you  see  is  not  Lambert,  but  a  badly-imitated  machine,"  which 
he  always  spoke  of  as  it.  A  patient  under  my  care,  who  suf- 
fered from  general  paralysis,  and  had  lost  sensibility  and 
voluntary  power  of  one  side,  could  never  be  persuaded  that 
another  patient,  a  very  harmless  fellow,  had  not  got  hold  of 
him,  and  was  keeping  him  down ;  and  when  convulsions 
occurred  in  the  paralyzed  side,  as  they  did  from  time  to  time, 
he  swore  terribly  at  his  fancied  tormentor.  Were  a  sane  per- 
son to  wake  up  some  morning  with  the  cutaneous  sensibility 
gone,  or  with  a  large  area  of  it  sending  up  to  the  brain  per- 
verted and  quite  unaccountable  impressions,  it  might  be  a 
hard  matter  perhaps  for  him  to  help  going  mad. 

The  mental  effects  of  perverted  sensation  afford  a  promis- 
ing field  for  future  research ;  when  better  understood  it  can- 
not be  doubted  that  they  will  explain  many  phenomena  in 
tlie  pathology  of  mind  that  now  quite  baffle  explanation.  It 
behooves  us  to  clearly  realize  the  broad  fact,  which  has  most 
wide-reaching  consequences  in  mental  physiology  and  pathol- 
ogy, that  all  parts  of  the  body,  the  liighest  and  the  lowest, 
have  a  sympathy  with  one  another  more  intelligent  than 
conscious  intelligence  can  yet,  or  perhaps  ever  will,  conceive; 
that  "there  is  not  an  organic  motion,  visible  or  invisible,  sen- 
sible or  insensible,  ministrant  to  the  noblest  or  to  the  most 
humble  purposes,  which  does  not  work  its  appointed  effect  in 
the  complex  recesses  of  mind ;  that  the  mind,  as  the  crowning 
achievement  of  organization,  and  the  consummation  and  out- 
come  of  all  its  energies,  really  comprehends  the  bodily  life. 

I  had  originally  set  down  within  the  purpose  of  these 
Lectures  the  consideration,  which  I  must  now  forego,  of  the 
influence  of  the  quantity  and  quality  of  the  blood  in  the  pro- 
duction of  insanity.     Poverty  and  vitiation  of  blood  maj 


90  BODY  AND  MIND. 

certainly  play  a  weighty  part  in  producing  mental,  as  they  do 
in  producing  other  nervous  disorders.  Lower  the  supply  of 
blood  to  the  brain  below  a  certain  level,  and  the  power  of 
thinking  is  abolished ;  the  brain  will  then  no  more  do  mental 
work  than  a  water-wheel  will  move  the  machinery  of  the  mill 
when  the  water  is  lowered  so  as  not  to  touch  it.  Wben  a 
§trong  emotion  produces  a  temporary  loss  of  consciousness, 
it  is  to  be  presumed  that  a  contraction  of  arteries  takes  place 
within  the  brain  similar  to  that  whicb  causes  the  pallor  of 
the  face ;  and  wben  the  laboring  heart  pumps  hard  to  over- 
come the  obstruction,  and  the  walls  of  tbe  vessels  are  weak, 
they  may  burst,  and  the  patient  die  of  effusion  of  blood. 
During  sleep  the  supply  of  blood  to  the  brain  is  lessened 
naturally,  and  we  perceive  the  effects  of  the  lowering  of  the 
supply,  as  it  takes  place,  in  the  sort  of  incoherence  or  mild 
delirium  of  ideas  just  before  falling  off  to  sleep.  To  a  like 
condition  of  things  we  ougbt  most  probably  to  attribute  the 
attacks  of  transitory  mania  or  delirium  that  occur  now  and 
then  in  consequence  of  great  physical  exhaustion,  as  from 
great  and  sudden  loss  of  blood,  or  just  as  convalescence  from 
fever  or  other  acute  disease  is  setting  in,  or  in  the  prostration 
of  phthisis,  and  which  a  glass  of  wine  opportunely  given  will 
sometimes  cure.  The  distress  of  the  melancholic  patient  is 
greatest  when  he  wakes  in  the  morning,  which  is  a  time 
when  a  watch  ought  to  be  kept  specially  over  the  suicidal 
patient;  the  reason  lying  probably  in  the  effects  of  the  di- 
minished cerebral  circulation  during  sleep. 

If  the  state  of  the  blood  be  vitiated  by  reason  of  some 
poison  bred  in  the  body,  or  introduced  into  it  from  without, 
the  mental  functions  may  be  seriously  deranged.  We  are 
able,  indeed,  by  means  of  the  drugs  at  our  command,  to  per- 
form all  sorts  of  experiments  on  the  mind :  we  can  suspend 
its  action  for  a  time  by  chloral  or  chloroform,  can  exalt  its 
functions  by  small  doses  of  opium  or  moderate  doses  of  alco- 
hol, can  pervert  them,  producing  an  artificial  delirium,  by  the 
administration  of  large  enough  doses  of  belladonna  and  Indian 


VITIATED  BLOOD.  91 

hemp.  We  can  positively  do  more  experimentally  with  the 
functions  of  the  mind-centres  than  we  can  do  with  those  of 
any  other  organ  of  the  body.  "VVhcn  these  are  exalted  in  con- 
sequence of  a  foreign  substance  introduced  into  the  blood,  it 
cannot  be  doubted  that  some  j^^ysical  effect  is  produced  on 
the  nerve-element,  which  is  the  condition  of  the  increased 
activity,  not  otherwise  probably  than  as  happens  when  a 
fever  makes,  as  it  certainly  will  sometimes  do,  a  demented 
person,  whose  mind  seemed  gone  past  all  hope  of  even  mo- 
mentary recovery,  quite  sensible  for  the  time  being.  Perhaps 
this  should  teach  us  that,  just  as  there  are  vibrations  of  light 
which  we  cannot  see,  and  vibrations  of  sound  which  we  can- 
not hear,  so  there  are  molecular  movements  in  the  brain  which 
are  incapable  of  producing  thought  ordinarily,  not  sufficing  to 
affect  consciousness,  but  which  may  do  so  when  the  sensi- 
bihty  of  the  molecules  is  exalted  by  physical  or  chemical 
modification  of  them. 

Alcohol  yields  us,  in  its  direct  effects,  the  abstract  and 
brief  chronicle  of  the  course  of  mania.  At  first  there  is  an 
agreeable  excitement,  a  lively  flow  of  ideas,  a  revival  of  old 
ideas  and  feelings  which  seemed  to  have  passed  from  the  mind, 
a  general  increase  of  mental  activity — a  condition  very  like 
that  which  often  precedes  an  attack  of  acute  mania,  when 
the  patient  is  witty,  lively,  satirical,  makes  jokes  or  rhymes, 
and  certainly  exhibits  a  brilliancy  of  fancy  which  he  is  capable 
of  at  no  other  time.  Then  there  follows,  in  the  next  stage  of 
its  increasing  action,  as  there  does  in  mania,  the  automatic 
excitation  of  ideas  which  start  np  and  follow  one  another 
without  order,  so  that  thought  and  speech  are  more  or  less 
incoherent,  while  passion  is  easily  excited.  After  this  stage 
has  lasted  for  a  time,  in  some  longer,  in  others  shorter,  it 
passes  into  one  of  depression  and  maudlin  melancholy,  just  as 
mania  sometimes  passes  into  melancholia,  or  convulsion  into 
paralysis.  And  the  last  stage  of  all  is  one  of  stupor  and  de- 
mentia. If  the  abuse  of  alcohol  be  continued  for  years,  it 
may  cause  different  forms  of  mental  derangement,  in  each  of 


92  BODY  AND   MIND. 

which  the  muscuhir  care  cnriously  like  the  mental  symptoms : 
delirium  tremens  in  one,  an  acute  noisy  and  destructive  mania 
in  another,  chronic  alcoholism  in  a  third,  and  a  condition  of 
mental  weakness  with  loss  of  memory  and  loss  of  energy  in  a 
fourth. 

Writers  on  gout  agree  that  a  suppressed  gout  may  entail 
mental  derangement  in  some  persons  ;  and,  on  the  other  hand, 
that  insanity  has  sometimes  disappeared  with  the  appearance 
of  the  usual  gouty  paroxysm.  Sydenham  noticed  and  described 
a  species  of  mania  supervening  on  an  epidemic  of  intermittent 
fever,  which,  he  remarks,  contrary  to  all  other  kinds  of  mad- 
ness, would  not  yield  to  plentiful  venesection  and  purging. 
Griesinger,  again,  has  directed  attention  to  cases  in  which, 
instead  of  the  usual  symptoms  of  ague,  the  patient  has  had  an 
intermittent  insanity  in  regular  tertian  or  quartan  attacks,  and 
has  been  cured  by  quinine.  We  must  bear  in  mind,  however, 
that  intermittence  may  be  a  feature  of  insanity  as  of  other 
nervous  diseases,  without  ague  having  any  thing  whatever  to 
do  with  it,  and  without  quinine  doing  any  good  whatever. 
Quinine  will  not  cure  the  intermittence  of  nervous  diseases, 
though  it  may  cure  ague  in  which  the  symptoms  are  inter- 
mittent. Griesinger  has  also  pointed  out  that  mental  disorder 
has  sometimes  occurred  in  the  course  of  acute  rheumatism, 
the  swelling  of  the  joints  meanwhile  subsiding.  These  facts, 
with  others  which  I  cannot  dwell  upon  now,  prove  how  im- 
portant an  agency  in  the  production  of  insanity  a  perverted 
state  of  the  blood  may  be.  But  it  is  a  mode  of  causation  of 
which  we  know  so  little  that  I  may  justly  declare  we  know 
next  to  nothing.  The  observation  and  classification  of  mental 
disorders  have  been  so  exclusively  psychological  that  we  have 
not  sincerely  realized  the  fact  that  they  illustrate  the  same 
pathological  principles  as  other  diseases,  are  produced  in  the 
eame  way,  and  must  be  investigated  in  the  same  spirit  of  posi- 
tive research.  Until  this  be  done  I  see  no  hope  of  iuiprove- 
raent  in  our  knowledge  of  them,  and  no  use  in  multiplying 
books  about  tliem. 


IDIOPATHIC  INSANITY.  93 

It  is  quite  true  tliat  when  we  have  referred  all  tlie  cases 
of  insanity  which  we  can  to  bodily  causes,  and  grouped  them 
according  to  their  characteristic  bodily  and  mental  features, 
there  will  remain  cases  which  we  cannot  refer  to  any  recog- 
nizable bodily  cause  or  connect  with  any  definite  bodily  dis- 
ease, and  which  we  must  be  content  to  describe  as  idiopathic. 
The  explanation  of  these  cases  we  shall  probably  discover 
ultimately  in  the  influence  of  the  hereditary  neurosis  and  in 
the  peculiarities  of  individual  temperament.  It  is  evident 
that  there  are  fundamental  differences  of  temperament,  and 
it  is  furthermore  plain  that  different  natures  will  be  differently 
favored  in  the  struggle  of  existence  ;  one  person  will  have  an 
advantage  over  another,  and  by  the  operation  of  the  law  of 
Natural  Selection  there  will  be  a  success  of  the  fittest  to  suc- 
ceed. It  is  with  the  development  of  mind  in  the  conduct  of  life 
as  it  is  with  every  form  of  life  in  its  relation  to  its  environ- 
ment. Life  is  surrounded  by  forces  that  are  always  tending 
to  destroy  it,  and  with  which  it  may  be  represented  as  in  a 
continued  warfare :  so  long  as  it  contends  successfully  with 
them,  winning  from  tlrem  and  constraining  them  to  further 
its  development,  it  flourishes ;  but  when  it  can  no  longer  strive, 
when  they  succeed  in  winning  from  it  and  increasiug  at  its 
expense,  it  begins  to  decay  and  die.  So  it  is  with  mind  in 
the  circumstances  of  its  existence  :  the  individual  who  cannot 
use  circumstances,  or  accommodate  himself  successfully  to 
them,  and  in  the  one  way  or  the  other  make  them  further  his 
development,  is  controlled  and  used  by  them  ;  being  weak,  he 
must  be  miserable,  must  be  a  victim  ;  and  one  way  in  which 
his  suffering  and  failure  will  be  manifest  will  be  in  insanity. 
Thus  it  is  that  mental  trials  which  serve  in  the  end  to  strength- 
en a  strong  nature  break  down  a  weak  one  which  cannot  fitly 
react,  and  that  the  efiiciency  of  a  moral  cause  of  insanity 
betrays  a  conspiracy  from  within  with  the  unfavorable  out- 
ward circumstances. 

It  behooves  us  to  bear  distinctly  in  mind,  when  we  take 
the  moral  causes  of  insanity  into  consideration,  that  the  men- 
5 


94  BODY  AND  MIXD. 

tal  suflfering  or  psychical  pain  of  a  sad  emotion  testifies 
to  actual  Tvear  and  teai-  of  nerve-element,  to  disintegration 
of  soDie  kind ;  it  is  the  exponent  of  a  physical  change. 
What  the  change  is  we  know  not ;  hnt  we  may  take  it  to  be 
beyond  question  that,  when  a  shock  imparted  to  the  mind 
through  the  senses  causes  a  violent  emotion,  it  produces  a 
real  commotion  in  the  molecules  of  the  brain.  It  is  not  that 
an  intangible  something  flashes  inward  and  mysteriously  af- 
fects an  intangible  metaphysical  entity ;  but  that  an  impres- 
sion made  on  the  sense  is  conveyed  along  nervous  paths  of 
communication,  and  produces  a  definite  physical  efi'ect  in 
physically-constituted  mind-centres ;  and  that  the  mental 
efi'ect,  which  is  the  exponent  of  the  physical  change,  may  be 
then  transferred  by  molecular  motion  to  the  muscles,  thus 
getting  muscular  expression,  or  to  the  processes  of  nutrition 
and  secretion,  getting  expression  in  modifications  of  them. 
When  there  is  a  native  infirmity  or  instability  of  nerve- 
element,  in  consequence  of  bad  ancestral  influences,  the  in- 
dividual will  be  more  liable  to,  and  will  suffer  more  from, 
such  violeut  mental  commotions;  the  disintegrating  change 
in  the  nerve-element  will  be  more  likely  to  pass  into  a  disor- 
ganization which  rest  and  nutrition  caunot  repair,  not  other- 
wise than  as  happens  with  the  elements  of  any  other  organ 
under  like  conditions  of  excessive  stimulation.  As  physi- 
cians, we  cannot  afford  to  lose  sight  of  the  physical  aspects 
of  mental  states,  if  we  would  truly  comprehend  the  nature 
of  mental  disease,  and  learn  to  treat  it  with  success.  The 
metaphysician  may,  for  the  purposes  of  speculation,  separate 
mind  from  body,  and  evoke  the  laws  of  its  operation  out  of 
the  depths  of  self  consciousness;  but  the  physician — who 
has  to  deal  practically  with  the  thoughts,  feelings,  and  con- 
duct of  men ;  who  has  to  do  with  mind,  not  as  an  abstract 
entity  concerning  which  he  may  be  content  to  speculate,  but 
as  a  force  in  Nature,  the  operations  of  which  he  must  pa- 
tiently observe  and  anxiously  labor  to  influence — must  recog- 
nize how  entirely  the  integrity  of  the  mental  functions  de- 


UNITY  OF  BODY  AND   MIND.  96 

pends  on  the  integrity  of  the  bodily  organization — must  ac- 
knowledge the  essential  unity  of  body  and  mind. 

To  set  forth  this  unity  has  been  a  chief  aim  in  these  Lec- 
tures, because  I  entertain  a  most  sincere  conviction  that  a 
just  conception  of  it  must  lie  at  the  foundation  of  a  real  ad- 
vance in  our  knowledge  both  of  the  physiology  and  pathol- 
ogy of  mind.  I  have  no  wish  whatever  to  exalt  unduly  tho 
body ;  I  have,  if  possible,  still  less  desire  to  degrade  the  mind ; 
but  I  do  protest,  with  all  the  energy  I  dare  use,  against  the 
unjust  and  most  unscientific  practice  of  declaring  the  body 
vile  and  despicable,  of  looking  down  upon  the  highest  and 
most  wonderful  contrivance  of  creative  skill  as  something  of 
which  man  dare  venture  to  feel  ashamed.  I  cannot  now 
summarize  the  facts  and  arguments  which  I  have  brought 
forward  ;  I  must  trust  to  the  indulgence  of  your  memory  of 
them  when  I  declare  that  to  my  mind  it  appears  a  clear  sci- 
entific duty  to  repudiate  the  quotation  from  an  old  writer, 
which  the  late  Sir  William  Ilamilton  used  to  hang  on  tho 
wall  of  his  lecture-room  : 

"  On  eartli  there  is  nothing  great  but  man, 
In  man  there  is  nothing  great  but  mind." 

The  aphorism,  which,-  like  most  aphorisms,  contains  an  equal 
measure  of  truth  and  untruth,  is  suitable  enough  to  the  pure 
metaphysician,  but  it  is  most  unsuitable  to  the  scientific  in- 
quirer, who  is  bound  to  reject  it,  not  because  of  that  which 
is  not  true  in  it  only,  but  much  more  because  of  the  baneful 
spirit  with  which  it  is  inspired.  On  earth  there  are  assured- 
ly other  things  great  besides  man,  though  none  greater ;  and 
in  man  there  are  other  things  great  besides  mind,  though  none 
greater.  And  whosoever,  inspired  by  the  spirit  of  the  aph- 
orism, thinks  to  know  any  thing  truly  of  man  without  study- 
ing most  earnestly  the  tilings  on  earth  that  lead  up  to  man, 
or  to  know  any  thing  truly  of  mind  without  studying  most 
earnestly  the  things  in  the  body  that  lead  up  to  and  issue  in 
mind,  will  enter  on  a  barren  labor,  which,  if  not  a  sorrow  to 


96  BODY  AXD   MIND. 

himself,  will  assuredly  be  sorrow  and  vexation  of  spirit  to 
others.  To  reckon  the  highest  operations  of  mind  to  be 
functions  of  a  mental  organization  is  to  exalt,  not  to  degrade, 
our  conception  of  creative  power  and  skill.  For,  if  it  be 
lawful  and  right  to  burst  into  admiration  of  the  wonderful 
contrivance  in  I^  ature  b j  which  noble  and  beautiful  products 
are  formed  out  of  base  materials,  it  is  surely  much  stronger 
e\'idence  of  contrivance  to  have  developed  the  higher  mental 
functions  by  evolution  from  the  lower,  and  to  have  used 
forms  of  matter  as  the  organic  instruments  of  all.  I  know 
not  why  the  Power  which  created  matter  and  its  properties 
should  be  thought  not  to  have  endowed  it  with  the  functions 
of  reason,  feeling,  and  will,  seeing  that,  w^hether  we  discover 
it  to  be  so  endowed  or  not,  the  mystery  is  equally  incompre- 
hensible to  us,  equally  simple  and  easy  to  the  Power  which 
created  matter  and  its  properties.  To  a  right-thinking  and 
right-feeling  mind,  the  beauty,  the  grandeur,  the  mystery  of 
Nature  are  augmented,  not  lessened,  by  each  new  glimpse  into 
the  secret  recesses  of  her  operations.  The  sun  going  forth 
from  its  chamber  in  the  east  to  run  its  course  is  not  less  glo- 
rious in  majesty  because  we  have  discovered  the  law  of  gravi- 
tation, and  are  able  by  spectral  analysis  to  detect  the  metals 
which  enter  into  its  composition — because  it  is  no  longer 
Helios  driving  his  golden  chariot  though  the  pathless  spaces 
of  the  heavens.  The  mountains  are  not  less  imposing  in 
their  grandeur  because  the  Oreads  have  deserted  them,  nor 
the  groves  less  attractive,  nor  the  streams  more  desolate,  be- 
cause science  has  banished  the  Dryads  and  the  IS'aiads.  No, 
science  has  not  destroyed  poetry,  nor  expelled  the  di\ine 
from  Nature,  but  has  furnished  the  materials,  and  given  the 
presages,  of  a  higher  poetry  and  a  mightier  philosophy  than 
the  world  has  yet  seen.  The  grave  of  each  superstition 
which  it  slays  is  the  womb  of  a  better  birth.  And  if  it 
come  to  pass  in  its  onward  march — as  it  may  well  be  it  will 
come  to  pass—that  other  superstitions  shall  be  dethroned  as 


SCIENCE  AND  POETRY.  97 

the  sun-god  has  been  dethroned,  we  may  rest  assured  that 
this  also  will  be  a  step  iu  human  progress,  and  in  the  benefi- 
cent evolution  of  the  Power  which  ruleth  alike  the  courses 
of  the  stars  and  the  ways  of  men. 


CONSCIENCE  AND   ORGANIZATION.* 

In  beginning  the  work  of  this  Section,  over  which  I  have 
the  honor  to  preside,  I  shall  confine  myself  to  a  few  intro- 
ductory remarks  of  a  general  character,  leaving  to  those  who 
will  come  after  me  the  more  exact  scientific  work  of  which 
we  have  fair  promise  in  the  papers  that  are  to  be  read.  The 
occasion  seems  fitting  to  take  a  short  survey  of  the  position 
of  medical  psychology  in  relation  to  certain  important  ques- 
tions of  the  day,  and  to  consider  the  bearing  which  its  prog- 
ress must  eventually  have  upon  them.  Permit  me,  then,  to 
ask  you,  first,  to  look  back  a  little  way  at  what  medical 
psychology  was,  in  order  the  better  to  realize  what  it  is,  and, 
if  possible,  to  forecast  something  of  the  character  of  its  fu- 
ture work.  A  glance  at  the  past  will  show  how  great  a  step 
forward  has  been  made,  and  may  yield  some  reason  for  con- 
gratulation ;  a  glance  at  the  present,  showing,  as  it  cannot 
fail  to  do,  how  small  a  proportion  the  gains  bear  to  what  re- 
mains to  be  acquired,  will  prove  that  as  yet  we  have  rather 
discovered  the  right  path  than  made  much  way  on  it ;  that 
we  are,  in  truth,  only  on  the  threshold  of  the  history  of  med- 
ical psychology  as  a  science. 

One  of  the  saddest  chapters  in  human  history  is  that 
which  describes  the  cruel  manner  in  which  the  insane  were 
treated  in  times  past.  Notwithstanding  that  it  is  happily  a 
thing  of  the  past,  it  will  not  be  without  profit  to  inquire  from 

♦  An  Address  on  Medical  Psychol  ocry,  delivered  at  the  Opening  of  the  Psy- 
chological Section  of  the  British  Medical  Association,  1872. 


GRECIAN   VIEWS   OF  MADNESS.  90 

what  causes  the  barbarous  usage  sprang  :  for  it  was  not  com- 
mon to  all  nations  and  all  times ;  on  the  contrary,  it  had  its 
birth  in  the  ignorance  and  superstition  of  the  dark  ages  of 
Christian  Europe.  "Whatever  may  have  been  thought  of 
madness  among  the  peoples  who  preceded  the  ancient  Greeks 
— and  there  is  evidence  that  the  Egyptians  adopted  a  singu- 
larly enlightened  and  humane  treatment — it  is  certain  that 
the  Greeks  had  comparatively  sound  theories  of  the  nature 
of  insanity  as  a  disease  to  be  cured  by  medical  and  moral 
means,  and  adopted  principles  of  treatment  in  conformity 
with  those  theories.  Their  dramatic  poets,  it  is  true,  present 
terrible  pictures  of  madmen  pursued  by  the  anger  of  the 
gods;  but  these  were  poetical  representations,  which  must 
not  be  taken  as  a  measure  of  the  best  knowledge  of  the  time. 
Then,  as  now,  and  indeed  as  ever  in  the  history  of  mankind, 
the  true  thinkers  were  emancipated  from  the  fables  and  su- 
perstitions of  the  vulgar  :  the  just  measure  of  Greek  intellect 
must  be  sought  in  the  psychology  of  Plato,  in  the  science  of 
Aristotle,  and  in  the  medical  doctrines  of  Hippocrates.  This 
eminent  physician  and  philosopher  expressly  repudiates  the 
notion  that  one  disease  is  of  more  divine  origin  than  an- 
other. After  saying  that  the  Scythians  ascribe  the  cause  of 
certain  disorders  to  God,  he  goes  on  to  give  his  own  opinion 
that  these,  and  all  other  disorders,  are  neither  more  nor  less 
of  divine  origin,  and  no  one  of  them  more  divine  or  more 
human  than  another";  that  each  has  its  own  physical  nature, 
and  that  none  is  produced  without  or  apart  from  its  nature. 
In  what  he  says  of  the  psychical  symptoms  of  various  diseases 
of  the  body  he  evinces  such  enlarged  views  of  the  scope  of 
medical  observation  and  practice  as  are  not  often  evinced  at 
the  present  day ;  and  the  few  observations  in  his  works  re- 
specting the  symptoms  of  delirium  "  evidence  that  jclear  and 
correct  view  of  disease  which  has  made  this  first  observer  a 
model  to  all  succeeding  times."  He  directs  attention  to  such 
facts  of  observation  as  the  physical  insensibility  of  the  insane,^ 
the  appearance  of  mental  diseases  in  the  spring,  the  occur- 


100  CONSCIENCE  AND  ORGANIZATION. 

rence  of  disorder  of  the  intellect  after  a  continuance  of  fear 
and  grief,  the  union  of  melancholy  and  ei)ilepsy,  the  critical 
importance  of  hemorrhoidal  discharges  in  mania,  the  diflS- 
culty  of  curing  madness  which  commences  after  the  age  of 
forty,  and  the  like.  And  as  there  was  no  superstition  in 
these  doctrines,  so  there  was  no  barbarism  in  his  treatment, 
which  was  medical,  and  consisted  principally  in  evacuation 
by  the  nse  of  hellebore.  But  moral  treatment  was  not  un- 
known among  the  Greeks ;  for  Asclepiades,  who  seems  to 
have  been  the  real  founder  of  a  psychical  mode  of  cure,  made 
use  of  love,  wine,  music,  employment,  and  special  means,  to 
attract  the  attention  and  exercise  the  memory.  He  recom- 
mended that  bodily  restraint  should  be  avoided  as  much  as 
possible,  and  that  none  but  the  most  dangerous  should  be 
confined  by  bonds.  Without  going  further  into  particulars, 
enough  has  been  said  to  show  that  the  Greeks  had  acquired 
accurate  notions  of  madness  as  a  disease,  which  was  to  be 
cured  by  appropriate  and  moral  treatment. 

How  came  it  to  pass  that  these  enlightened  \dews  ever 
fell  into  oblivion  ?  This  question  is  really  only  a  part  of  the 
larger  question.  How  came  it  to  pass  that  the  high  aesthetic 
culture  and  brilliant  intellectual  development  of  the  Grecian 
era,  which  might  have  seemed  possessions  of  mankind  for- 
ever, were  lost  in  the  darkness  and  barbarism  of  the  middle 
ages  ?  To  trace  the  causes  of  this  so  sad  decline  would  be 
far  beyond  my  present  purpose  ;  suffice  the  fact  that  philoso- 
phy, which  had  mounted  so  high,  was  for  a  time  sunk  so  low 
beneath  the  waves  of  superstition  and  ignorance,  that  it 
might  well  have  never  been  in  existence.  And,  when  atlast 
a  revival  of  learning  took  place,  things  were  little  better ; 
empty  scholastic  subtilties  and  metaphysical  mysticism  en- 
gaged the  whole  attention  of  men,  who  rivalled  one  another 
in  verbal  disputations,  without  agreement  in  the  meaning  of 
the  terms  they  used,  and  in  blind  worship  of  tlie  authority  of 
Aristotle,  without  real  regard  to  the  true  method  of  his  phi- 
losophy, or  to  the  facts  with  which  it  dealt.     As  if  knowledge 


SPIRIT  OF  ASCETICISM.  101 

were  nothing  more  than  a  process  of  ingenious  excogitation, 
they  made  no  attempt  to  observe  the  phenomena  of  Nature, 
and  to  search  out  the  laws  governing  them,  but  laboriously 
"invoked  their  own  spirits  to  utter  oracles  to  them;  "  where- 
fore philosophy  was  little  more  than  a  web  of  unmeaning 
terms,  and  of  empty  metaphysical  subtilties. 

"With  this  sort  of  intellectual  activity  was  joined,  as  the 
result  of  the  detestable  spirit  which  inspired  monastic  teach- 
ing and  monastic  practice,  a  harsh  religious  asceticism, 
through  which  the  body  was  looked  down  upon  with  con- 
tempt, as  vile  and  despicable,  the  temple  of  Satan,  the  home 
of  the  fleshly  lusts  which  war  against  the  soul,  and  as  need- 
ing to  be  vigilantly  kept  in  subjection,  to  be  crucified  daily 
with  its  affections  and  lusts.  It  was  the  earthly  prison-house 
of  the  spirit  whose  pure  immortal  longings  were  to  get  free 
from  it.  Such  was  the  monstrous  doctrine  of  the  relation  of 
mind  and  body.  What  place  could  a  rational  theory  of  in- 
sanity have  in  such  an  atmosphere  of  thought  and  feeling  ? 
The  conception  of  it  as  a  disease  was  impossible :  it  was  as- 
cribed to  a  supernatural  operation,  divine  or  diabolical,  as 
the  case  might  be — was  a  real  possession  of  the  individual  by 
some  extrinsic  superior  power.  If  the  ravings  of  the  person 
took  a  religious  turn,  and  his  life  was  a  fanatical  practice  of 
some  extraordinary  penance — if,  like  St.  Macarius,  he  slept 
for  months  together  in  a  marsh,  exposing  his  naked  body  to 
the  stings  of  venomous  flies ;  or,  like  St.  Simeon  Stylites,  he 
spent  the  greater  part  of  his  life  on  a  pillar  sixty  feet  high  ; 
or,  like  St.  Anthony,  the  patriarch  of  monachism,  he  had 
never,  in  extreme  old  age,  been  guilty  of  washing  his  feet — 
he  was  thought  to  have  reached  the  ideal  of  human  excel- 
lence, and  was  canonized  as  a  saint.  More  often  his  state 
was  deemed  to  be  a  possession  by  the  devil  or  other  evil 
spirit,  or  the  degrading  effect  of  a  soul  enslaved  by  sin. 
From  some  cause  or  other,  he  was  a  just  victim  of  Divine  dis- 
pleasure, and  had  been  cast  down  in  consequence  from  hia 
high  human  estate. 


102  CONSCIENCE  AND  ORGANIZATION. 

It  was  the  natural  result  of  such  views  of  insanity  that 
men  should  treat  him  whom  they  believed  to  have  a  de\il  in 
hhn,  as  they  would  have  treated  the  devil  could  they  have 
had  the  good  fortune  to  lay  hold  of  him.  The  tortures  which 
the  insane  suffered  from  the  devils  that  had  entered  into  him 
were  less  than  those  inflicted  by  the  devils  who  took  charge 
of  him.  When  he  was  not  put  to  death  as  a  heretic  or  a 
criminal,  he  was  confined  in  a  dungeon,  where  he  lay  chained 
on  straw ;  his  food  was  thrown  in,  and  the  stratr  raked  out, 
through  the  bars ;  sightseers  went  to  see  him,  as  they  went 
to  see  the  wild  beasts,  for  amusement ;  he  was  cowed  by  the 
whip,  or  other  instrument  of  punishment,  and  was  more  neg- 
lected and  worse  treated  than  if  he  had  been  a  wild  beast. 
Many  insane  persons,  too,  were  without  doubt  executed  as 
witches,  or  as  persous  who  had,  through  witchcraft,  entered 
into  compact  with  Satan.  It  is  a  striking  illustration,  if  we 
think  of  it,  of  the  condition  of  thouglit  at  that  time,  and  of 
the  great  change  which  has  taken  place  since,  that  such  ex- 
pressions as  the  black  arts,  witchcraft,  diabolical  possession, 
and  the  like,  have  fallen  entirely  out  of  use,  and  would  ba 
thought  to  convey  no  meaning  if  they  were  used  now.  They 
were  fictitious  causes  invented  to  account  for  facts,  many  of 
which  undoubtedly  lay  within  the  domain  of  madness. 

Kow,  it  is  a  fact,  abundantly  exemplified  in  human  his- 
tory, that  a  practice  fi-equently  lasts  for  a  long  time  after  the 
theory  which  inspired  it  has  lost  its  hold  on  the  belief  of 
mankind.  No  wonder,  then,  that  the  cruel  treatment  of  the 
insane  "survived  the  belief  in  diabolical  possession,  though  it 
is  justly  a  wonder  that  it  should  have  lasted  into  this  cen- 
tury. The  explanation  of  the  seeming  anomaly  is  to  be 
sought,  I  believe,  in  the  purely  metaphysical  views  of  mind 
which  prevailed  long  after  inductive  science  had  invaded  and 
made  conquests  of  other  departments  of  Nature.  Theology 
and  metaphysics,  having  common  interests,  were  naturally 
drawn  into  close  alliance,  in  order  to  keep  entire  possession 
of  the  domain  of  mind,  and  to  withstand  the  progress  of  in- 


THEOLOGICAL   SPIRIT.  103 

iuctive  inquiry.  With  tlie  notions  they  cherished  of  the  na- 
ture of  mind,  and  of  its  relations  to  body,  it  was  thought  im- 
possible, and  would  have  been  denounced  as  sacrilegious,  to 
enter  upon  the  study  of  it  by  the  way  of  physical  research. 
To  have  supposed  that  the  innermost  sanctuary  of  Nature 
could  be  so  entered  through  the  humble  portals  of  bodily 
functions,  would  have  been  regarded  as  an  unwarrantable 
and  unholy  exaltation  of  the  body,  which  was  full  of  all  un- 
cleanness,  corruptible,  of  the  earth  earthy,  and  a  gross  degra- 
dation of  the  mind,  which  was  incorruptible,  of  the  heaven 
heavenly,  and  joint  partaker  of  divine  immortality.  Whoso- 
ever had  dared  to  propound  such  a  doctrine  would  assuredly 
have  been  put  to  death  as  a  blasphemer  and  a  heretic.  And 
yet  he  ought  to  have  been  hailed  as  a  benefactor.  It  is  im- 
possible to  say  of  any  false  belief  which  mankind  have  had, 
that  it  has  been  the  most  pernicious  in  its  effects;  but  we 
may  truly  say  of  the  theological  notion  of  the  relations  of 
mind  and  body,  that  it  has  been  surpassed  by  few  false  doc- 
trines in  the  evil  which  it  has  worked. 

The  spirit  of  metaphysical  speculation  was  scarcely  less 
hostile  to  physical  researches  into  mental  function.  For 
when  inquirers  had  struggled  successfully  out  of  mere  verbal 
disputation,  and  had  applied  themselves  to  the  observation 
of  mental  phenomena,  the  method  used  was  entirely  one- 
sided; it  was  a  system  of  mental  introspection  exclusively, 
each  one  looking  into  his  own  mind  and  propounding  as 
philosophy  what  he  thought  he  observed  there ;  the  external 
observation  of  mind  in  all  its  various  manifestations,  and  of 
the  bodily  conditions  of  all  mental  action,  was  ignored.  "When 
all  knowledge  of  mental  action  was  gained  in  this  way  by 
observation  of  self- consciousness,  men  naturally  formed  opin- 
ions from  their  own  experience  which  they  applied  to  the 
mental  states  of  insane  persons  ;  feeling  that  they  themselves 
had  a  consciousness  of  right  and  wrong,  and  a  power  of  will 
to  do  the  right  and  forbear  the  wrong,  they  never  doubted 
that  madmen  had  a  like  clearness  of  consciousness  and  a  like 


104  CONSCIENCE  AND   ORaANIZATION. 

power  of  will — that  they  could,  if  they  would,  control  their 
disorderly  thoughts  and  acts.  The  dungeon,  the  chain,  the 
whip,  and  other  instruments  of  punishment,  were  accordingly 
in  constant  use  as  means  of  coercion,  the  result  heing  that  ex- 
hibitions of  madness  were  witnessed  which  are  no  longer  to  be 
seen,  "•  because  they  were  not  the  simple  product  of  malady, 
hut  of  malady  aggravated  by  mismanagement."  "What  with 
the  theological  notion  of  madness  as  a  work  of  Satan  in  the 
individual,  and  what  with  the  erroneous  views  of  it  subse- 
quently begotten  of  the  metaphysical  spirit,  it  came  to  pass 
that  the  barbarous  system  of  treatment  was  only  abolished 
within  the  memory  of  men  yet  living.  In  sad  truth  may  we 
say  that,  so  far  as  a  knowledge  of  the  nature  of  insanity  and 
of  the  proper  mode  of  treating  it  is  concerned,  mankind  owe 
no  thanks,  but,  on  the  contrary,  much  error  and  infinite  hu- 
man suffering,  to  theology  and  metaphysics. 

It  was  when  men  recognized  insanity  as  a  disease  which, 
like  other  diseases,  might  be  alleviated  or  cured  by  medical 
and  moral  means — when  they  regained  the  stand-point  which 
tbe  ancient  Grecians  had  held — that  they  began  the  struggle 
to  free  themselves  in  this  matter  from  the  bondage  of  false 
theology  and  mischievous  metaphysics.  So  far  as  the  phe- 
nomena of  deranged  mind  reach,  the  battle  has  been  won  and 
the  victory  is  complete;  no  one  whose  opinion  is  of  any 
value  pretends  now  that  they  are  any  thing  more  than  the 
deranged  functions  of  the  supreme  nervous  centres  of  the 
body.  But  the  victory  is  not  yet  complete  along  the  whole 
line  of  mental  function ;  there  is  the  strongest  desire  evinced, 
and  the  most  strenuous  efforts  are  made,  in  many  quarters, 
to  exempt  from  physical  researches  the  highest  functions  of 
mind,  and  particularly  the  so-called  moral  sense  and  the  will. 
The  moral  sense  is,  indeed,  the  stronghold  of  those  who  have 
made  strategical  movements  of  retreat  from  other  defensive 
positions  which  they  have  taken  up ;  and  it  is  from  this 
stronghold  that  what  are  deemed  the  most  telling  arguments 
against   the   Darwinian  doctrine  of  physiological  evolution 


THE   MORAL   SENSE.  105 

have  come.  Are  we,  tLcn,  as  physiologists,  to  allow  an  ex- 
emption from  physical  research  to  any  function  of  mind, 
however  exalted ;  or  shall  we  maintain  through  good  and 
through  evil  report  that  all  its  functions,  from  the  lowest  to 
the  highest,  are  equally  functions  of  organization?  A  vital 
question  for  us  as  medical  psychologists,  which  we  must, 
sooner  or  later,  face  boldly,  and  answer  distinctly. 

In  Abercrombie's  well-known  and  valued  work,  "In- 
quiries concerning  the  Intellectual  Powers,"  there  is  a  strik- 
ing passage  relating  to  the  moral  sense  which  seems  to  me 
truly  melancholy.  After  pointing  out  clearly  the  existence 
of  a  moral  insanity  in  which  every  correct  feeling  is  oblit- 
erated in  regard  to  moral  relations,  while  the  judgment  is 
sound  in  all  other  relations,  and  so  demonstrating  that  the 
influence  of  the  moral  principle  on  the  power  of  conscience 
may  be  weakened  or  lost,  while  reason  remains  unimpaired, 
he  says :  "  That  this  power  should  so  completely  lose  its  sway, 
while  reason  remains  unimpaired,  is  a  point  in  the  moral 
constitution  of  man  which  it  does  not  belong  to  the  physician 
to  investigate.  The  fact  is  unquestionable ;  tlie  solution  is 
to  be  sought  in  the  records  of  eternal  truth."  Is  not  this  pas- 
sage beyond  measure  sad  ?  Must  science  really  accept  this 
attitude  of  helplessness?  Must  the  physician  who  has  to 
deal  practically  with  these  instances  of  moral  insanity  for- 
bear forever  to  investigate  its  nature  and  causation  ?  So  far 
from  assenting  to  such  an  exclusion,  I  hold  that  there  is  no 
sanctum  sanctorum  in  science,  and  that  it  distinctly  belongs 
to  the  physician  to  seek  for  the  solution  of  the  problem  in 
the  discovery  of  those  laws  of  Nature  which  are  to  him  the 
incontestable  records  of  eternal  truth. 

Let  us  clearly  apprehend  the  problem  which  we  have  to 
consider.  Some  popular  capital  has  been  made,  and  made  in 
quarters  where  we  might  justly  have  looked  for  greater  sin- 
cerity or  sounder  apprehension,  out  of  the  fact  that  physi- 
ology, however  far  it  may  advance,  can  never  bridge  over 
the  gap  between  nerve-elements  and  mind,  can  never  leap 


106  CONSCIENCE   AND  ORGANIZATION. 

from  the  movements  of  nerve-molecules  to  consciousness* 
No  one  has  ever  said  that  it  could ;  the  problem  before  us  aa 
scientific  observers  is  not  to  demonstrate  the  real  nature  of 
the  force  which  we  designate  mental,  nor  to  show  how  and 
whj  certain  molecular  movements  in  nerve  become,  if  they 
do  become,  sensation  or  idea,  but  it  is  to  trace  here,  as  in 
other  departments  of  Nature,  uniformities  of  sequence ;  to 
point  out  that  certain  sequences  are,  within  our  experience, 
the  invariable  consequences  of  certain  antecedent  conditions. 
The  how  or  the  ^chy  is  a  mystery  which  we  do  not  pretend  or 
attempt  to  explain  ;  we  do  not  even  aspire  to  know  it.  "We 
can  only  know  these  uniformities  of  sequence  as  we  do  the 
uniformity  of  sequence  which  we  call  gravitation.  What  is 
the  actual  power  which  makes  one  body  attract  another  di- 
rectly as  the  mass  and  inversely  as  the  square  of  the  distance, 
we  have  not  the  least  knowledge;  why  and  how  certain 
molecular  movements  become  heat,  or  electricity,  or  chemi- 
cal action,  we  are  just  as  ignorant ;  and  in  admitting  that  we 
cannot  comprehend  how  certain  states  of  matter  occasion 
certain  states  of  mind,  we  may  rightly  demand  that  no  more 
should  be  asked  of  the  physiologist,  in  explanation  of  the  icJiy 
of  events,  than  is  asked  of  the  physicist.  The  mystery  is 
neither  more  nor  less  in  the  one  case  than  in  the  other.  To 
say  that  it  is  inconceivable  that  matter,  in  however  complex 
a  state  of  organization,  should  generate  consciousness,  should 
feel  and  think,  is  simply  an  ap])eal  to  the  self-sufficiency  of 
human  intellect  at  the  present  day,  and  a  sort  of  argument 
which,  if  logically  carried  through,  would  bar  any  new  con- 
ception of  what,  from  ignorance,  is  yet  inconceivable  to  us ; 
it  would  make  the  present  limit  of  conception  the  limit  of 
conception  forever;  and  it  is  certainly  unwarrantable  in  the 
face  of  the  fact  that  tlie  history  of  tlie  progress  of  knowledge 
is,  in  great  part,  a  history  of  the  inconceivable  becoming  con- 
ceivable. Moreover,  it  is  an  assertion  which  is  positively 
contradicted  by  the  testimony  of  persons  who  have  been 
presumably  in  their  right  minds,  and  who  have  not  spoken 


MILTON'S  MATERIALISM.  107 

in  mere  haste  and  ignorance.  Let  rae  instance  that  of  one  per- 
son, whose  qualifications  few  will  contest — I  mean  John  Mil- 
ton. Both  in  prose  and  poetrj  he  makes  known  his  opinion 
that  matter  is  capable  of  intellectual  functions,  declaring  in 
"Paradise  Lost,"  that  the  first  matter  rises  through  various 
degrees  of  substance  and  of  life,  until  "body  up  to  spirit 
works,"  just  as  from  the  root  springs  lighter  the  green  stalk, 
from  thence  the  leaves,  and,  "last,  the  bright  consummate 
flower  spirits  odorous  breathes."  That  he  intended  this  pas- 
sage not  merely  as  poetry,  but  as  sound  philosophy,  is  proved 
by  what  he  says  in  his  "  Treatise  on  Christian  Doctrine," 
where  he  declares  that  "  man  is  a  living  being,  intrinsically 
and  properly  one  and  individual,  not  compound  or  separable, 
not,  according  to  the  common  opinion,  made  up  and  framed 
of  two  distinct  and  different  natures,  as  of  soul  and  body — 
but  the  whole  man  is  soul,  and  the  soul  man  ;  that  is  to  say, 
a  body,  or  substance,  individual,  animated,  sensitive,  and 
rational."  The  notion  of  matter  being  capable  of  thinking 
was  clearly,  then,  not  inconceivable  to  Milton  ;  and  there  can 
bo  no  doubt  that  there  always  have  been  persons  who  have 
found  it  more  conceivable  than  the  notion  of  spirit  entirely 
distinct  from  body,  having  no  relation  to  it,  and  yet  acting 
upon  it  in  every  thought,  feeling,  and  act  of  life."* 

♦  Some  of  those  who  have  done  me  the  honor  to  criticise  this  address,  have 
eeemed  to  tliink  that  in  saying  that  Milton  held  matter  to  be  capable  of  intellect- 
ual function,  I  have  not  fairly  represented  his  opinion.  Let  mo  add,  therefore, 
the  following  quotations  from  his  "  Treatise  on  Christian  Doctrine :  "  "  For  the 
original  matter  of  which  we  speak  is  not  to  be  looked  upon  as  an  evil  or  a  trivial 
thing,  but  as  intrinsically  good,  and  the  chief  productive  stock  of  every  subse- 
quent good.  .  .  .  But  that  the  spirit  of  man  should  be  separate  from  the  body, 
60  as  to  have  a  perfect  and  intelligent  existence  independently  of  it,  is  nowhere 
said  in  Scripture,  and  the  doctrme  is  evidently  at  variance  both  with  Nature  and 
reason,  as  will  be  suowti  more  fully  hereafter.  For  the  word  soul  is  also  appHed 
to  every  kind  of  hving  being:  Gen.  i.  30,  'to  every  beast  of  the  earth,' etc., 
'  wherein  there  is  life ; '  vii.  22^  '  all  in  whose  nostrils  was  the  breath  of  life,  of  all 
that  was  in  the  tlry  land,  died ; '  yet  it  was  never  infen-ed  from  these  expressions 
that  the  soul  exists  separate  from  the  body  in  any  of  the  brute  creation.  ...  It 
would  seem,  therefore,  that  the  human  soul  is  not  created  daily  by  the  immediate 
ect  of  God,  but  propagated  from  fathf/r  to  son  in  a  natural  order.  .  .  .  There 
seems,  therefore,  no  reason  why  the  soul  of  man  ehould  be  made  an  exception  to 


i08  CONSCIENCE  AND  ORGANIZATION. 

With  these  general  remarks,  by  way  of  necessary  caution, 
let  me  come  to  the  particuhir  problem  which  -sve  have  to 
face — namely,  whether  there  is  the  same  essential  connec- 
tion between  moral  sense  and  brain  which  there  is  between 
thought  and  brain,  or  between  any  of  our  special  senses  and 
its  special  ganglionic  centre  in  the  brain  ?  Is  conscience  a 
function  of  organization?  I  will  ask  yon  to  look  without 
prejudice  at  the  facts  of  observation,  and  to  consider  if  they 
admit  of  any  other  scientific  interpretation.  For  the  medical 
psychologist,  whose  duty  brings  him  into  constant  inter- 
course with  facts,  cannot  rest  satisfied  with  vague  specula- 
tions ;  he  is  bound  to  investigate  the  phenomena  as  they  pre- 
sent themselves  to  observation,  and  to  form  conclusions  from 
them,  without  regard  to  accepted  theories  of  faith  or  knowl- 
edge ;  and  if  he  arrives  at  sound  conclusions  from  such 
observation  of  facts  not  before  observed,  these  will  not 
contradict  old  fiiiths  unless  in  that  wherein  old  faiths  are 
wrong,  and  it  is  right  they  should  be  contradicted.  His  gen- 
eralizations, like  the  generalizations  of  astronomy,  chemistry, 
or  any  other  branch  of  science,  must  rest  on  their  own 
merits ;  they  cannot  justly  be  tested  by  any  preconceived 
standard  of  truth,  however  much  hallowed  by  antiquity  or 
sanctioned  by  authority. 

■\Vlien  we  come  to  deal  with  examples  of  moral  degen- 
eracy, whether  among  the  insane  or  among  criminals,  we 
perceive  at  once  that  it  is  not  sufficient  to  ascribe  immo- 
rality to  the  devil;  that  we  must,  if  we  would  not  leave  the 
matter  a  mystery,  go  on  to  discover  the  cause  of  it  in  the 
individual.  The  eflect  defective  comes  by  cause,  we  are  con- 
strained to  believe;  what  is  the  cause  and  what  are  the  laws 
of  moral  degeneracy?     As   society  is  constituted,    certain 

the  peneral  law  of  creatidn.  For,  as  has  been  shown  before,  God  breathed  the 
breath  of  life  into  other  livin?  beings,  and  blended  it  so  intimately  with  matter, 
that  the  propagation  and  production  of  the  human  form  were  analogous  to  those 
of  other  forms,  and  were  the  proper  effects  of  tliat  power  which  had  been  com 
municiUed  to  matter  by  the  Deity." 

See  albo  '•  Paradise  Lost,"  book  v.,  v.  100  and  v.  407. 


THE  CRIMINAL  NEUROSIS.  109 

forms  of  evil-doing  are  certainly  not  profitable  in  the  long- 
run;  how  comes  it,  then,  that  an  individual,  capable  of  look- 
ing before  and  after,  remembering  the  retribution  of  past  sin, 
and  foreseeing  the  Nemesis  that  waits  on  future  wrong- 
doing, is  so  forgetful  of  true  self-interest  as  to  yield  to  evil 
impulses  ?  And  whence  do  these  impulses  come  ?  One 
thing  ia  certain,  that  moral  philosophy  cannot  penetrate  the 
hidden  springs  of  feeling  and  impulse  ;  they  lie  deeper  than 
it  can  reach,  for  they  lie  in  the  physical  constitution  of  the 
individual,  and,  going  still  farther  back,  perhaps  in  his  or- 
ganic antecedents.  Because  the  fathers  have  eaten  sour 
grapes,  therefore  it  often  is  that  the  children's  teeth  are  set 
on  edge.  Because  the  fathers  had  stoned  tlie  i)rophets,  there- 
fore it  was  that  the  children  rejected  Him  who  was  sent  unto 
them.  Assuredly  of  some  criminals,  as  of  some  insane  per- 
sons, it  may  be  truly  said  that  they  are  born,  not  made ; 
they  go  criminal,  as  the  insane  go  mad,  because  they  cannot 
help  it;  a  stronger  powder  than  they  can  counteract  Las  given 
the  bias  of  their  being.  Those  who  doubt  this  w^hen  it  is 
put  in  this  positive  form,  will  hardly  continue  to  do  so  when 
they  consider  that  between  the  drivelling  idiot,  equally  desti- 
tute of  intellect  and  moral  feeling,  whom  no  labor  of  training 
can  raise  to  a  human  level,  and  the  highest  example  of  intel- 
lect and  moral  feeling,  there  are  beings  marking  every  step 
of  the  long  gradation;  that  we  may -mount  from  entire  ab- 
sence of  moral  sense  through  every  grade  of  deficiency  up  to 
its  highest  state  of  development.  I  do  not  dispute  that 
much  may  sometimes  be  done  by  education  and  training  to 
counteract  in  this  respect  the  ills  of  a  bad  inheritance,  but  it 
is  still  true  that  the  foundations  upon  which  the  acquisitions 
of  education  must  rest  are  inherited,  and  that  in  many  in- 
stances they  are  too  weak  to  bear  a  good  moral  superstruct- 
ure. Moral  philosophy  may  make  its  hard  and  fast  lines,  and 
lay  down  abstract  propositions  concerning  the  power  of  the 
will  in  the  conduct  of  life ;  but,  when  we  have  to  do  with 
concrete  cases,  it  is  plain  that  no  such  definite  lines  can  be 


110  CONSCIENCE  AND   ORGANIZATION. 

applied,  and  that  tlie  abstract  propositions  are  only  true  of  a 
certain  proportion  of  mankind.  Moreover,  it  appears  also 
that  tliose  of  whom  they  are  true  have  much  less  merit  in  the 
matter,  and  those  of  whom  they  are  not  true  much  less  blame, 
than  moral  philosophers  are  apt  to  imagine  and  inculcate. 
The  fact  of  inheritance  which  constitutes  the  misfortune  of 
the  latter  constitutes  also  the  virtue  of  the  former.  There  is 
often  nulla  i7nputatio  in  one  case,  nulla  virtus  in  the  other. 

The  causes,  course,  and  varieties  of  degeneracy  are  not, 
then,  merely  subjects  for  the  moral  philosopher  or  the 
preacher  ;  but  they  are  proper  subjects  for  positive  scientific 
inquiry.  And  if  they  be  so  investigated,  it  is  not  unlikely 
that  the  results  may  throw  some  light  on  the  vexed  question 
of  the  nature  and  origin  of  the  moral  sense.  Now,  if  there 
be  a  class  of  persons  who  are  without  the  moral  sense,  who 
are  true  moral  imbeciles,  it  is  the  class  of  habitual  criminals. 
All  observers  who  have  made  them  their  study  agree  that 
they  constitute  a  morbid  or  degenerate  variety  of  mankind, 
marked  by  peculiar  low  physical  and  mental  characteristics. 
They  are  scrofulous,  often  deformed,  with  badly-formed, 
angular  heads,  are  stupid,  sluggish,  deficient  in  vital  energy, 
and  sometimes  afflicted  with  epilepsy.  They  are  of  weak 
and  defective  intellect,  though  excessively  cunning  ;  and  not 
a  few  of  them  are  weak-minded  and  imbecile.  The  women 
are  ugly  in  features,  and  without  grace  of  expression  or 
movement.  The  children  who  become  juvenile  criminals,  do 
not  evince  the  educational  aptitude  of  the  higher  industrial 
classes ;  they  are  deficient  in  the  power  of  attention  and  ap- 
plication, have  bad  memories,  and  make  slow  progress  in 
learning;  many  of  them  are  weak  in  mind  and  body,  and 
some  of  them  actually  imbecile.  At  the  end  of  the  best  part 
of  a  life  spent  amofig  prisoners,  a  prison-surgeon  declarea 
himself  to  be  mainly  impressed  with  their  extreme  deficiency 
or  perversion  of  moral  feeling,  the  strength  of  the  evil  pro- 
pensities of  their  nature,  and  their  utter  impracticability; 
neither  kindness  nor  severity  availing  to  prevent  them  from 


THE  CRIMINAL   CLASS.  Ill 

i3e vising  and  doing  wrong  day  by  day,  although  their  con- 
duct brought  on  them  further  privations.  Their  evil  propen- 
sities are  veritable  instincts  of  their  defective  nature,  acting, 
like  instincts,  in  spite  of  reason,  and  producing,  when  not 
gratified,  a  restlessness  which  becomes  at  times  uncontrol- 
lable. Hence  occur  the  so-called  "  breakings-out "  of  pris- 
oners, when,  without  apparent  cause,  they  fall  into  paroxysms 
of  excitement,  tear  their  clothing.and  bedding,  assault  the  offi- 
cers, and  altogether  behave  for  a  time  like  furious  madmen. 

We  may  take  it,  then,  on  the  authority  of  those  who  have 
had  the  best  opportunities  of  observation,  that  there  is  a  class 
of  criminals  formed  of  beings  of  defective  physical  and  men- 
tal organization ;  one  result  of  the  defect,  which  really  deter- 
mines their  destiny  in  life,  being  an  extreme  deficiency  or 
complete  absence  of  moral  sense:  that  an  absence  of  moral 
sense  may  be  a  congenital  vice  or  fault  of  organization.  The 
experience  of  medical  practice  certainly  confirms  this  view. 
From  time  to  time  we  are  consulted  about  perplexing  cases 
of  what  might  be  called  moral  insanity,  or,  more  properly, 
moral  imbecility,  in  children  of  the  better  classes.  Though 
born  in  good  circumstances  of  life,  and  having  every  advan- 
tage of  education,  they  cannot,  by  any  care  or  training,  be 
made  to  learn  and  behave  like  other  children ;  they  display 
no  affection  whatever  for  parents,  brothers,  or  sisters,  and  no 
real  appreciation  of  the  difference  between  right  and  wrong 
— no  love  for  the  one,  no  remorse  for  the  other ;  they  are  in- 
herently vicious,  and  steal  and  lie  with  a  skill  that  it  is  hard 
to  believe  could  ever  have  been  acquired — are,  in  fact,  in- 
stinctive thieves  and  liars  ;  every  thing  that  their  vicious  na- 
ture prompts  them  to  desire  is  for  them  right,  and  they  exhib- 
it a  remarkable  cunning  in  gratifying  their  evil  propensities  ; 
they  are  the  hopeless  pupils  of  any  master  who  has  any  thing 
to  do  with  them,  and  are  sure  to  be  expelled  from  any  school 
to  which  they  may  be  sent.  In  the  end,  all  those  who  have  to 
do  with  them  are  constrained  to  ascribe  to  defect  what  at 
first  seemed  simple  badness.    Now,  what  we  commonly  find 


112  CONSCIENCE  AND   ORGANIZATION. 

in  these  cases,  when  we  are  able  to  push  satisfactory  inquiry 
into  their  hereditary  antecedents,  is  that  they  come  of  fami- 
lies in  which  insanity  or  some  allied  neurosis  prevails.  This 
is  the  interesting  fact  to  which  I  wish  to  draw  attention. 

In  addition  to  the  entire  absence  or  perversion  of  moral 
sense,  without  feeling  of  remorse,  which  experience  of  habit- 
ual criminals  brings  prominently  out,  other  important  facts 
which  we  learn  from  an  investigation  of  their  family  histo- 
ries are,  that  a  considerable  proportion  of  them  are  weak- 
minded  or  epileptic,  or  become  insane,  or  that  they  spring 
from  families  in  which  insanity,  epilepsy,  or  some  other  neu- 
rosis exists,  and  that  the  diseases  from  which  they  suffer,  and 
of  which  they  die,  are  chiefly  tubercular  diseases,  and  dis- 
eases of  the  nervous  system.  Crime  is  not,  then,  always  a 
simple  affair  of  yielding  to  an  evil  impulse  or  a  vicious  pas- 
sion, which  might  be  checked  were  ordinary  control  exer- 
cised ;  it  is  clearly  sometimes  the  result  of  an  actual  neurosis 
which  has  close  relations  of  nature  and  descent  to  other  neu- 
roses ;  especially  the  epileptic  and  the  insane  neuroses ;  and 
this  neurosis  is  the  physical  result  of  physiological  laws  of 
production  and  evolution.  No  wonder  that  the  criminal  psy^ 
chosis^  which  is  the  mental  side  of  the  neurosis,  is  for  the  most 
part  an  intractable  malady;  punishment  being  of  no  avail  to 
produce  a  permanent  reformation.  A  true  reformation  would 
be  a  rg-forming  of  the  individual  nature ;  and  how  can  that 
which  has  been  forming  through  generations  be  re-formed 
within  the  term  of  a  single  life?  Can  the  Ethiopian  change 
his  skin,  or  the  leopard  his  spots  ? 

The  hereditary  kinship  which  is  sometimes  traceable  be- 
tween crime  and  insanity,  I  cannot  now  set  forth  in  detail; 
but,  to  make  clear  what  I  mean,  I  may  give  one  or  two  illus- 
trations out  of  many  of  a  like  kind,  which  might  be  brought 
forward.  Of  five  children  from  an  insane  mother  and  a 
drunken  father,  one  was  suicidal,  two  suffered  imprisonment 
for  crimes,  one  daughter  was  insane,  the  other  was  imbecile. 
Suicide,  crime,  insanity,  and  imbecility,  were  thus  different 


DEGENERATE  TYPE.  113 

manifestations  of  a  morbid  type  in  the  second  generation. 
The  case  of  Christiana  Edmunds,  who  was  convicted  of  mur- 
der, and  afterward  reprieved  and  sent  to  Broadmoor,  will  be 
fresh  in  your  recollection.  Her  father  died  raving  mad  in  an 
asylum;  her  brother  died  epileptic  and  idiotic  at  Earlswood; 
her  sister  suffered  from  mental  excitement,  and  once  attempt- 
ed to  throw  herself  out  of  a  window ;  her  mother's  father 
died  paralyzed  and  childish ;  a  cousin  on  the  same  side  was 
imbecile ;  she  herself  had  been  subject  to  somnambulism  in 
childhood,  had  suffered  from  hysteria  later  in  life,  and  had 
finally  had  an  attack  of  hemiplegia;  and  at  the  time  of  her 
trial,  her  face,  drawn  to  one  side,  showed  the  effects  of  the 
hemiplegic  attack  from  which  she  had  suffered.  I  had  more 
than  an  hour's  conversation  with  her  in  Newgate,  and,  at  the 
end  of  it,  two  convictions  were  firmly  planted  in  my  mind : 
the  first,  that  she  had  no  real  moral  appreciation  of  the  nature 
of  her  crime,  and  no  shadow  of  a  feeling  of  remorse  with  re- 
gard to  it ;  the  second,  that  she  would  have  poisoned  a  whole 
city-full  of  people,  if  it  had  lain  in  her  way  to  do  so,  without 
hesitation,  compunction,  or  remorse.  Nevertheless,  her  in- 
tellect was  acute,  certainly  above  the  average,  and  showed 
no  signs  of  disorder.  I  could  only  regard  her  case  as  a  strong 
confirmation  of  an  opinion  which  I  had  elsewhere  expressed, 
and  which  I  believe  to  be  a  just  conclusion  from  facts ; 
namely,  that  one  occasional  result  of  descent  from  an  insane 
family  is  a  nature  entirely  destitute  of  moral  sense — congen- 
itally  defective  in  that  respect — whereby  the  individual  is  as 
insensible  to  the  moral  relations  of  life  as  a  person  color- 
blind is  to  certain  colors.  I  give  no  opinion  here  as  to  the 
legal  policy  of  treating  such  a  person  as  of  sound  and  respon- 
sible nature  ;  it  is  a  subject  beset  with  difficulties,  and  man,'^ 
considerations,  on  which  I  cannot  enter  now,  would  have  to 
be  taken  into  account ;  but  I  may  justly  ask  you,  as  scientific 
men,  whether  you  would  pronounce  a  person,  with  such  he- 
reditary antecedents  and  such  personal  ills,  accountable  in  the 
same  sense  or  same  degree  as  one  of  us  ?     For  my  part,  when 


114  COXSCIEXCE   ASB   ORGAXIZATIOX. 

one  thinks  of  the  terrible  auction  which  an  nnsound  mental 
organization  is,  and  what  reason  for  devout  thankfcdness  a 
man  of  sound  descent  and  nature  has,  I  would  rather  prav 
with  the  Arabian  philosopher,  ''  0  God  I  be  kind  to  the  wick- 
ed ;  to  the  good  thou  hast  already  been  sufficiently  kind  in 
making  them  good." 

One  example  more  shall  suffice  to  exhibit  the  alliance  be- 
tween degenerate  types ;  it  shows  the  effect  of  crime  in  one 
generation  of  a  family  upon  the  mental  organization  of  the 
following  generations — shows,  indeed,  how  the  sins  of  the 
fathers  are  visited  upon  the  children  unto  the  third  and  fourth 
generations.  It  is  that  of  the  innkeeper,  which  I  have  quoted 
on  other  occasions:  TThile  the  Reign  of  Terror  was  going  on 
during  the  first  French  Revolution,  he  profited  by  the  critical 
situation  in  which  many  nobles  of  his  commune  found  them- 
selves, to  decoy  them  into  his  house,  where  he  was  believed 
to  have  robbed  and  murdered  them.  His  daughter,  having 
quarrelled  with  him,  denounced  him  to  the  authorities,  who 
put  him  on  his  trial,  but  he  escaped  conviction  from  lack  of 
proof.  She  committed  suicide  subsequently.  One  of  her 
brothers  had  nearly  murdered  her  on  one  occasion  with  a 
knife,  and  another  brother  hanged  himself.  Her  sister  was 
epileptic,  imbecile,  and  paroxysmally  violent.  Her  daughter, 
in  whom  the  degenerate  line  approached  extinction,  became 
completely  deranged,  and  was  sent  to  an  asylum.  Here,  thea, 
is  the  sort  of  petligree  which  we  really  want,  if  we  are  to 
judge  of  the  worth  of  a  family — ^the  hereditary  line  of  its 
vices,  virtues,  and  diseases. 

First  generation.        Acute  intelligence,  with    )  Absence  or  destmetion 
murder  and  robbery.      f       of  moral  sense. 


Second  generation.        Suicide,       Homicidal  violence.    Epilepsy,  imbe- 
I  and  suicide,  cility,  and  mania. 

Third  generation.         Mania. 

It  may  be  said  that  this  was  an  extreme  and  exceptional 
case.     "Without  doubt  it  was  an  extreme  case;  but  it  is  on 


MOKAL  PECULIARITIES.  116 

that  account  the  better  fitted  to  produce  an  impression ;  and 
it  must  be  remembered  that  the  laws  by  which  its  results 
were  worked  out  are  laws  which  are  continually  at  work  in 
accomplishing  less  striking  results,  and  that  so-called  excep- 
tional cases  in  science  are,  when  rightly  studied,  exception- 
ally useful  in  helping  us  to  discover  the  laws  for  which  we 
are  searching.  My  argument  is,  that  the  moral  element  is  an 
essential  part  of  a  complete  and  sound  character,  in  the  pres- 
ent state  of  human  evolution ;  it  was  the  last  acquisition  of 
development  in  the  progress  of  humanization^  and  it  is  com- 
monly the  first  to  sufier  when  degeneracy  begins,  and  there- 
fore its  decay  is  the  first  sign  of  the  commencement  of  such 
degeneracy.  He  who  is  destitute  of  moral  sense  is  a  defec- 
tive being  to  that  extent ;  he  marks  the  beginning  of  race-de- 
generacy ;  and,  if  better  influences  do  not  intervene  to  check 
or  neutralize  the  morbid  tendency,  his  children  will  exhibit  a 
further  degree  of  degeneracy,  and  be  actual  morbid  varieties. 
"VTliat  shall  be  the  particular  outcome  of  the  morbid  strain — 
whether  vice,  or  crime,  or  madness — will  of  course  depend 
much  on  the  circumstances  of  life  ;  the  inborn  fact  counts  for 
much,  but  not  for  every  thing,  in  the  result.  Certainly,  how- 
ever, it  is  a  conviction  in  my  mind,  produced  by  observation 
of  instances,  that  one  way  in  which  insanity  seems  to  be  gen- 
erated de  novo  in  a  family,  is  through  the  deterioration  of  na- 
ture induced  by  destruction  of  moral  sense.  As  insanity  in 
one  generation  may  produce  an  absence  of  moral  sense  in  the 
next,  so,  conversely,  absence  or  destruction  of  the  moral 
sense  in  one  generation  may  be  followed  by  insanity  in  the 
next. 

No  one  who  has  had  much  to  do  with  the  treatment  of 
the  insane  can  have  failed  t-o  notice  the  mental  peculiarities 
somethnes  exhibited  by  their  near  relations.  One  striking 
way  in  which  they  display  them  at  times  is  in  an  extreme 
morbid  suspicion  of  every  thing  and  everybody ;  in  the  most 
innocent  actions  of  others  they  detect  an  unworthy  motive, 
and  seize  on  the  evil  interpretation.     They  torment   them 


116  CONSCIENCE  AND  ORGANIZATION. 

)  selves  and  others  with  the  ingenuity  of  their  suspicions.  Se- 
,;  cret  ways  and  dealings  they  affect  naturally  and  pursue  sys- 
tematically. However  insane  their  relative  may  be,  they  can 
'i  hardly  be  brought  to  see  it ;  and,  if  they  do  see  it,  they  seem 
■;  actually  to  persuade  themselves  that  the  doctors  who  have 
/  treated  him,  or  those  who  have  had  the  care  of  him,  are  re- 
sponsible for  his  state.  These  moral  peculiarities  are  consti- 
tutional :  they  are  marks  of  one  variety  of  the  insane  temper- 
ament, and,  as  such,  are  of  interest  to  us  in  our  present  in- 
quiry. For  the  facts  which  I  have  thus  far  mentioned  seem 
to  me  to  prove  the  essential  connection  of  the  moral  sense 
with  organization,  and  to  admit  of  interpretation  only  on  that 
supposition.  It,  or  the  potentiality  of  it,  is  inherited  by  most 
persons,  though  some  appear  to  be  born  without  it ;  it  is  de- 
veloped by  culture ;  decays  from  disuse ;  and  is  perverted  or 
destroyed  by  disease.  The  last  acquired  faculty  in  the  prog- 
ress of  human  evolution,  it  is  the  first  to  suffer  when  disease 
invades  the  mental  organization.  One  of  the  first  symptoms  of 
insanity — one  which  declares  itself  before  there  is  any  intel- 
lectual derangement,  before  the  person's  friends  suspect  even 
that  he  is  becoming  insane — is  a  deadening  or  complete  per- 
version of  the  moral  sense.  In  extreme  cases  it  is  observed 
that  the  modest  man  becomes  presumptuous  and  exacting, 
the  chaste  man  lewd  and  obscene,  the  honest  man  a  thief, 
and  the  truthfol  man  an  unblushing  liar.  Short  of  this,  how- 
ever, there  is  an  observable  impairment  of  the  finer  moral 
feelings — a  something  different,  which  the  nearest  friends  do 
not  fail  to  feel,  although  they  cannot  always  describe  it. 
Now,  these  signs  of  moral  perversion  are  really  the  first  symp- 
toms of  a  mental  derangement  which  may,  in  its  further 
course,  go  through  all  degrees  of  intellectual  disorder,  and 
end  in  destruction  of  mind,  with  visible  destruction  of  the 
nerve-cells  which  minister  to  mind.  Is  the  end,  then,  depend- 
ent on  organization,  or  rather  disorganization,  and  is  the  be- 
ginning not  ?  This  course  of  degeneracy  is  but  a  summary 
in  the  individual  of  what  we  have  already  seen  to  take  place 


IMPAIRMENT   OF  MORAL  SENSE.  117 

through  generations,  and  in  both  cases  we  are  constrained 
to  believe  that  the  moral  changes  are  as  closely  dependent 
upon  physical  causes  as  are  the  intellectual  changes  which  ac- 
company or  follow  them.  If  it  be  not  so,  we  may  bid  farewell 
to  all  investigation  of  mental  function  by  a  scientific  method. 

Other  arguments  in  favor  of  this  view  of  conscience  as  a 
function  of  organization  —  the  highest  and  most  delicate 
function  of  the  highest  and  most  complex  development 
thereof — might  be  drawn  from  the  effect  of  a  severe  attack 
of  insanity  on  the  moral  feelings.  The  patient  entirely  re- 
covers his  reason ;  his  intellectual  faculties  are  as  acute  as 
ever,  but  iiis  moral  character  is  changed  ;  he  is  no  longer  the 
moral  man  that  he  was  ;  the  shock  has  destroyed  the  finest 
part  of  his  mental  organization.  Henceforth  his  life  may  be 
as  different  from  his  former  life  as  was  the  life  of  Saul  of 
Tarsus  from  the  life  of  Paul  the  Apostle  to  the  Gentiles.  An 
attack  of  epilepsy  has  produced  the  same  effect,  effacing  the 
moral  sense  as  it  effaces  the  memory  sometimes;  and  we  are 
all  familiar  with  the  marked  temporary  change  of  moral 
character  in  the  epileptic  which  often  precedes  and  heralds 
the  approach  of  his  fits.  A  fever,  or  an  injury  to  the  head, 
nas  in  like  manner  entirely  changed  the  moral  character,  and 
so  also  has  habitual  opium-eating  or  habitual  drunkenness. 
The  evil  effect  of  these  vices  might  of  course  be  ascribed  to 
the  indulgence  of  passion  and  the  degradation  of  the  moral 
sense  apart  from  physical  causes ;  but  the  same  cannot  be 
said  of  the  effects  of  a  fever  or  of  an  injury  to  the  head. 
Moreover,  we  know  that  alcohol  and  opium  do  affect  the 
brain  by  their  actual  presence  there,  and  through  the  brain 
the  mind,  just  as  strychnia  affects  the  spinal  cord  and  its 
functions;  and  we  know  also  that  it  is  in  the  natural 
order  of  events  that  continuance  of  perverted  function  should 
lead  to  organic  disease.  In  the  case  of  opium  or  alcohol, 
then,  as  in  the  case  of  a  blow  on  the  head,  we  believe  the 
effect  to  be  physical. 

We  are  further  strengthened  in  this  conviction  when  we 
6 


118  CONSCIENCE  AND   ORGANIZATION. 

take  note  of  the  decided  effects  of  solitary  vice  upon  the 
moral  character,  or  of  snch  a  sexual  mutilation  as  eunuchs 
have  undergone.  Long  before  that  vice  destroys  the  mind, 
it  destroys  moral  energy  and  feeling,  this  effect  being  the  pre- 
cursor of  the  intellectual  impairment  which  goes  on  to  utter 
dementia  in  the  worst  cases.  Of  the  moral  character  of 
eunuchs,  all  that  we  can  briefly  say  is,  that  in  most  cases  they 
have  no  moral  character;  their  minds  are  mutilated  like 
their  bodies;  with  the  deprivation  of  sexual  feeling,  they 
are  deprived  of  all  the  mental  growth  and  energy  which  it 
directly  or  remotely  inspires.  How  much  this  is,  it  would  be 
hard  to  say  ;  but  were  man  deprived  of  the  instinct  of  propa- 
gation, and  of  all  that" mentally  springs  from  it,  I  doubt  not 
that  most  of  the  poetry  and  perhaps  all  the  moral  feehng 
would  be  cut  out  of  his  life. 

Before  such  an  audience,  it  is  not  necessary  for  me  to  in- 
sist further  on  such  facts  as  I  have  mentioned;  as  physicians 
we  cannot  fail  to  recognize  them ;  but  it  is  necessary  for  us, 
if  we  would  be,  like  our  great  master  Hippocrates,  philoso- 
phers as  well  as  physicians,  to  give  them  tjieir.  proper  place 
in  a  system  of  medical  psychology,  and  to  weigh  their  bear- 
ing on  accepted  philosophical  theories.  I  had  meant  to 
point  out  how  they  go  to  prove  the  doctrine  of  evolution  to 
be  true  of  the  highest  mental  faculties  of  man,  including  his 
moral  sense;  but  I  must  refrain.  Already  I  have  trespassed 
too  long  on  your  patience.  The  medical  psychologist  must,  I 
think,  maintain  that  the  best  of  the  argument  concerning  the 
origin  of  the  moral  sense  is  with  those  who  uphold  its  ac- 
quired nature.  That  the  sentiments  of  common  interest  in 
the  primitive  family  and  ti-ibe,  and  the  habitual  reprobation 
of  certain  acts  by  individuals  as  injurious  to  the  family  or 
tribe,  should  finally  generate  a  sentiment  of  right  and  wrong 
in  regard  to  such  acts,  and  that  such  sentiment  should  in  the 
course  of  generations  be  transmitted  by  hereditary  action  as 
a  more  or  less  marked  instinctive  feeling,  is  in  entire  accord- 
ance with  what  we  know  of  the  results  of  education  and  of 


THE   ORIGIN  OF  MORAL  SENSE.  119 

hereditary  action.  Tirae  was,  wo  know,  when  men  wan- 
dered about  the  country  in  families  or  tribes.  In  order  that 
they  miglit  rise  from  this  nomadic  state  to  a  national  exist- 
ence, the  acquisition  and  development  of  a  moral  sense  must 
clearly  have  been  essential  conditions — not,  however,  as  pre- 
formed agents,  but  as  concomitant  effects  of  evolution.  This 
development  is  still  going  slowly  on ;  but  the  proof  how 
little  moral  sense  itself  instigates  progress  is  seen  in  the  ab- 
sence of  it  between  nations.  Men  have  risen  to  a  national 
existence,  but  they  have  not  yet  risen  to  an  international  ex- 
istence. With  moral  principles  that  have  not  changed  within 
historical  times,  nations  still  laud  patriotism,  which  is  actual- 
ly a  mark  of  moral  incompleteness,  as  the  highest  virtue; 
and  statesmen  think  it  a  fine  thing  to  sneer  at  cosmopoli- 
tanism. But  it  cannot  be  doubted  that  the  time  will  come, 
though  it  may  be  yet  afar  off,  when  nations  shall  know  and 
feel  their  interests  to  be  one,  when  moral  feeling  shall  be  de- 
veloped between  them,  and  when  they  shall  not  learn  war 
any  more ;  it  will  come  as  a  step  in  evolution  and  as  a  condi- 
tion of  universal  brotherhood,  not  otherwise  than  as,  coming 
between  tribes,  it  bound  them  into  nations,  and  made  patriot- 
ism the  high  virtue  which  it  is  believed  to  be. 

In  the  work  of  helping  to  trace  the  path  of  human  evolu- 
tion through  the  ages,  a  great  function  lies  before  a  scientific 
psychology;  and  in  investigating  in  one  department  thereof 
the  characters  of  the  various  neuroses,  and  the  causes,  course, 
and  varieties  of  human  degeneracy,  which  seem  to  be  neces- 
sary retrograde  accompaniments  of  progress,  we  medical 
psychologists  have  a  vast  field  before  us.  To  rise  to  a  just 
conception  of  the  scope  and  dignity  of  our  work  will  be  the 
best  inspiration  for  entering  on  it,  as  is  becoming,  neither  in 
an  abject  spirit  of  superstition  nor  in  an  arrogant  spirit  of 
conceit.  For  this  we  must  not  forget ;  that,  however  clearly 
we  trace  the  order  of  events,  the  mystery  of  their  wliy  re- 
mains where  it  was;  however  clearly  we  may  follow  "one 
first  matter"  through 


120  CONSCIENCE  AND   ORGANIZATION. 

"  various  forms,  and  various  degrees 
Of  substance,  and  in  things  that  live,  of  life, 

Till  body  up  to  spirit  work,  in  bounds 
Proportioned  to  each  kind," 

the  power  which  determines  whv  one  tissue  should  super* 
vene  on  another,  why  life  should  tend  upward,  which  in- 
spires and  guides  the  everlasting  becoming  of  things,  must 
ever  remain  past  finding  out.  Man  himself,  with  all  his  sor- 
rows and  sufferings,  with  all  his  hopes  and  aspirations,  and  his 
labors  wherewith  he  has  labored  under  the  sun,  it  is  but  a 
little  incident  in  the  inconceivablj  vast  operations  of  that 
primal  central  power  which  sent  the  planets  on  their  courses, 
and  holds  the  lasting  orbs  of  heaven  in  their  just  poise  and 
movement. 


PART  IL 

E  S  SAT  S. 


L— HAMLET, 
n.— SWEDENBORG. 
m.— THE  THEORY  OF  VITALITY. 
IV.— THE  LIMITS  OF  PHILOSOPHICAL  INQUEST. 


HAMLET.* 

MuoH  as  has  been  written  concerning  "  Ilaralet "  by  the 
many  who  have  sympathized  with  the  ditierent  phases  of  his 
character,  yet  it  would  appear  that  no  one  who  sets  himself 
anew  to  the  earnest  study  of  the  drama,  is  content  with  what 
others  have  done,  but  believes  that  ho  can  add  something  im- 
portant from  his  own  reflections.  "Were  confession  honestly 
made,  it  would  most  likely  turn  out  that  each  sympathetic 
reader  did  at  bottom  consider  himself  to  be  the  real  Hamlet ; 
no  marvel,  therefore,  that  he  deems  himself  best  capable  of 
doing  justice  to  the  character.  Though  he  fail  to  give  an 
adequate  idea  of  the  Hamlet  which  Shakespeare  created,  each 
critic  does  unquestionably  succeed  in  revealing  his  own  intel- 
lectual range,  and  the  sort  of  one-sided  Hamlet  which  he 
would  have  created.  Many  of  these  criticisms  or  expositions 
would,  however,  have  been  rendered  unnecessary  if  their  au- 
thors had  but  borne  it  in  mind  that  Hamlet  is  a  poetical  cre- 
ation, and  never  was  a  living  reality.  Certainly,  had  that 
been  done,  it  Is  not  likely  that  any  one  would  have  deliber- 
ately set  himself  to  prove  that  he  was  an  actual  madman. 
Heartily  sympathizing  with  him  in  his  perilous  perplexities, 
some  are  yet  needlessly  pained  by  the  horrible  sentiments  to 
which  he  gives  utterance,  and  offended  by  the  apparent  bru- 
tality of  his  conduct ;  eager  for  the  moral  credit  of  the  hero, 
they  strive  to  exculpate  him,  even  at  the  cost  of  finding  "no 
other  excuse  but  the  sad  excuse  of  a  disordered  mind."    Such 

*  Westminster    Rkview,  No  K?  : — 1.   Shakespeare.    Yon  G.  G.  Gorvinu* 
Drltte  Auflage.    2.  A  Study  of  Hamlet.    By  JoJia  OonoUy,  M.  D.,  D.  C.  L. 


124  ESSAYS. 

view  proceeds  from  a  misconception  of  the  nature  and  aim  of 
the  drama. 

In  tragedy,  it  is  always  necessary  that  the  character  of  the 
hero  be  neither  purely  good  nor  purely  bad  ;  else  there  would 
not  be  sufficient  complication  of  exciting  events.  "Were  the 
hero  purely  good,  whUe  the  circumstances  in  which  he  was 
placed  were  adverse,  then,  though  we  might  have  the  suffer- 
ing life  of  a  martyr  or  a  saint  well  adapted  to  excite  our  com- 
miseration, we  certainly  should  not  have  the  dramatic  action 
of  a  tragedy  that  would  actively  move  our  feelings  and  pow- 
erfully stir  our  sympathy ;  in  the  first  act  would  he  included 
all  the  rest  of  the  tragedy.  The  character  must  not  indeed 
he  that  of  an  angel,  but  that  of  a  man  compounded,  like  other 
men,  of  virtues  and  faults,  who  struggles  with  a  brave  defi- 
ance against  the  most  adverse  circumstances,  and,  notwith- 
standing praiseworthy  and  strenuous  efforts,  at  last  sinks  per- 
haps beneath  the  bad  fate  of  some  defect  in  his  own  charac- 
ter. He  is  an  Atlas  supporting  the  world,  but  in  the  end  is 
buried  under  it.  Out  of  the  relations  of  his  nature  to  its  sur- 
roundings, an  unavoidable  destiny  is  forged,  and  he  is  hurried 
on  in  spite  of  all  his  struggles  through  a  malign  conjunction 
of  events  to  an  unforeseen  catastrophe.  As  in  Grecian  fable, 
the  efforts  which  the  victim  made  to  avoid  the  doom  foretold 
him  by  the  oracle,  were  exactly  such  as  conducted  him  un- 
witting to  the  foreordained  catastrophe,  so  in  the  drama,  the 
fate  which  the  hero's  character  makes  for  him  often  renders 
vain  all  the  energy  with  which  he  moves  hinderances  out  of 
his  way,  and  battles  with  opposing  events.  "Tragical  des- 
tiny," says  Jean  Paul,  "  is  the  long-reverberating  mountain 
echo  of  a  human  discord." 

A  second  reflection  which  might  well  have  wrought  to 
prevent  any  attempt  at  an  exact  portrait  of  Hamlet  as  a  liv- 
ing individual,  is  a  reflection  on  the  form  or  nature  of  a  true 
dramatic  character.  It  is  an  allegorical  or  symbolical  individ- 
aality,  not  merely  a  particular  portrait;  the  secret  of  its  ap- 
peal to  universal  sympathy  being  that  the  general  is  manifest 


HAMLET  125 

in  the  concrete,  humanity  mirrored  in  the  individual.  "Were 
the  poet  to  present  to  us  the  exact  copy  of  an  individual  char- 
acter, however  marked  might  be  its  peculiarities,  it  would  still 
have  very  little  interest  for  us  and  would  very  soon  be  for- 
gotten :  in  his  blindness  and  incompetency,  he  would  sacri- 
fice the  permanent  and  universal  to  the  fleeting  and  acciden- 
tal. And  this  is  assuredly  a  great  mistake ;  for  every  indi- 
vidual is  representative — more  or  less  plainly,  an  incarnation 
of  the  universal;  in  each  one  is  latent  all  that  is  human. 
Hence  it  is  that  the  great  poet,  penetrating  into  the  depths 
of  the  individual  nature,  and  grasping  the  universal  or  essen- 
tial, is  able  to  create  so  many  characters ;  and  hence  also  it 
is  that  we  are  able,  from  the  appeal  which  they  make  to  our 
common  humanity,  at  once  to  recognize  them,  though  we 
have  never  met  with  the  originals  in  real  life.  It  is  the  char- 
acteristic of  the  genius  that  he  can  seize  the  vague,  formless 
feelings,  and  the  indistinct  casual  thoughts,  that  lie  deep  and 
latent  in  our  unconscious  life,  and  bring  them  forth  into 
clearness  and  distinction ;  by  flashing  a  light  upon  that  which 
lay  in  obscurity  he  thus  makes  a  new  revelation  of  Nature, 
and  in  his  creation  we  learn  to  know  ourselves.  Because 
every  animal  too  has  its  footing  in  our  nature,  it  is  possible 
for  the  genius  of  a  Landseer  to  render  the  common  relation 
visible  through  the  creations  of  his  art,  and  to  appeal  power- 
fully to  our  sympathies.  A  true  dramatic  character  that  shall 
live  must  be  representative  or  symbolical,  never  a  mere  por- 
trait :  the  story  of  Prometheus,  is  it  not  a  universal  verity  ? 
Had  Shakespeare  been  content  to  copy  individual  nature,  no 
one  would  have  been  at  the  trouble  now  to  remember  Hamlet 
or  Falstaff ;  and  that  so  many  writers  have  given  us  characters 
which  are  no  more  than  particular  portraits,  is  a  suflicient 
reason  why  scarce  one  organic  character  was  added  to  our  pos- 
sessions from  the  time  of  Shakespeare  unto  that  of  Goethe. 

It  is  truly,  then,  a  painful  shock  to  poetical  sensibility, 
when  any  attempt  is  made  to  reduce  the  universality  manifest 
to  our  reason  through  the  well-marked  individuality  of  Ham- 


126  ESSAYS. 

let's  character  to  a  mere  portrait  with  which  the  senses  only 
are  concerned.  Hamlet  is  not  the  photographic  copy  of  any. 
real  character,  hut  the  idealized  realization  of  human  nature 
under  certain  conditions:  it  is  an  ideal  of  human  nature 
strongly  individualized,  the  character  being,  therefore,  con- 
sistent with  human  nature  as  a  generic  expression,  and  con- 
sistent with  itself  as  a  personality.  Consequently  it  is  the 
highest  art,  not  a  mere  imitation  or  reproduction  such  as  in- 
ferior art  is :  it  is  Nature  developed  through  man,  and  that 
man  Shakespeare.  Those,  therefore,  who  reflect  will  see 
in  Hamlet,  as  they  do  in  contemplating  Nature,  that  which 
they  bring  with  them,  the  faculty  of  seeing.  One  man, 
pluming  himself,  it  may  be,  on  being  practical,  sees  no  more 
than  the  plain  facts,  and  discovers  with  exultant  littleness 
the  anachronism  of  Ophelia's  calling  for  a  coach;  another 
thrills  in  harmonious  symphony  with  the  poetry  in  the  drama, 
and  follows  with  feelings  of  tender  sympathy  the  fate  of  the 
hapless  Ophelia ;  while  a  third  recognizes  the  philosophy  of 
the  play,  and  traces  with  admiring  awe  the  relentless  course 
of  destiny  in  the  evolution  of  events.  As  long  as  human  na- 
ture remains  what  it  is,  all  classes  in  all  ages  will  findareflec- 
tion  of  some  part  of  themselves  in  Hamlet.  Is  it  not,  then,  a 
much  mistaken  labor  in  any  one  to  strive  to  point  out  how 
minutely  Shakespeare  has  here  copied  Nature  ?  The  right 
aim  of  a  critic  who  is  conscious  of  the  exalted  scope  of  art, 
must  be  to  show  how  he  has  developed  Nature,  to  unfold 
the  idea  which  inspires  and  pervades  the  wondrous  drama. 
Surely  there  is  abundant  evidence  that  Shakespeare,  with  de- 
liberate purpose,  disdains  minutely  to  reproduce  Nature,  just 
as  he  distains  chronologies,  unities,  and  such  transitory 
things ;  so  that,  to  the  mere  observer,  nothing  can  be  more 
unnatural  than  some  of  his  scenes.  But  he  does  not  appeal 
to  the  senses  and  to  one  age  ;  he  appeals  to  the  reason  and  to 
all  time.  While  he  lived  he  was  himself  the  highest  develop- 
ment of  Nature ;  and  his  sincere  works,  his  art,  must  there- 
Core  be  true  to  Nature,  true  to  the  eternal  indwelling  ideas — 


HAMLET.  127 

the  imiversal  verities,  though  not  induding  the  fleeting,  tem- 
porary, and  accidental.  Genius  has  but  little  concern  with 
the  moment;  the  "eternities  are  its  seed-field." 

In  the  first  act  of  "  Hamlet,"  the  key-note  of  the  tragedy 
is  struck.  There  is  not,  it  is  true,  any  prediction  of  the 
course  which  events  are  to  take ;  but  the  tone  of  mind  pro- 
duced by  the  scene  is  a  solemn  feeling  of  mysterious  awe, 
which  vibrates  in  the  soul  like  the  wail  of  mournful  music, 
and  contains  the  formless  presentiment  of  coming  woes  ;  it  is 
a  heavy  but  undefined  oppression,  like  that  dead  stillness  or 
indistinct  moaning  of  physical  Nature  which  sometimes  on  a 
summer's  day  precedes  the  outburst  of  a  violent  storm.  This 
feeling  is  in  excellent  harmony  with  the  external  circum- 
stances of  the  scene — the  bitter  cold  night  when  there  is  not 
a  mouse  stirring,  the  sentinel  on  the  lonely  platform  sick  at 
heart,  and  the  bell  just  beating  one :  the  external  physical 
world  and  the  internal  world  of  feeling  are  brought  face  to 
face  as  strophe  and  antistrophe.  And  as  this  depressing 
scene  presages  the  appearance  of  the  ghost,  as  this  melan- 
choly of  physical  Nature  foreshadows  the  event  of  her  trou- 
bled spirit,  so  the  gloomy  presentiment  which  rests  in  the 
mind  at  the  close  of  the  act  portends  the  coming  horrors:  the 
dark  shadow  of  predestination  is  cast  over  both.  When  we 
consciously  strive  to  interpret  the  oppressive  feeling,  it  be- 
comes evident  that  we  have  a  vague  instinct  that  Fate  is  im- 
posing on  an  individual  a  task  which  must  hurry  him  to  de- 
struction— that  here  once  more  is  to  be  acted  the  old  and 
unequal  contest  of  human  will  with  necessity,  the  tragedy  at 
which  the  gods  do  laugh.  What  shall  human  prudence  avail 
when  a  supernatural  messenger  from  realms  not  dreamed  of 
in  human  philosophy  issues  the  fiat  of  destiny  ?  Well  may 
Hamlet  exclaim  when  the  ghost  appears,  and  his  friends  en- 
deavor to  prevent  him  from  obeying  its  beckonings  : 

"  My  fate  cries  out, 
Arid  makes  each  petty  artery  in  this  body 
As  hardy  as  the  Nemean  lion's  nerve. 
Still  am  I  called.^'* 


128  ESSAYS. 

After  the  ghost  has  made  its  horrible  revelations,  aad  tha 
tension  of  Hamlet's  great  emotion  has  relaxed,  how  infinitely 
insignificant;  how  intolerably  little,  would  appear  the  petty 
matters  of  ordinary  life !  Ko  wonder  that  he  flashes  ont  in 
"  wild  and  whirling  words  "  of  scorn  and  sarcasm — words 
which  are  the  fit  expressions  of  a  deep  agitation,  which  rep- 
resent in  their  wildness  that  strange,  hoarse  tone  of  voice,  and 
that  recklessness  of  thought,  that  follow  the  shock  of  a  pow- 
erful emotion.  Hamlet  was  inclined  by  nature,  too,  to  be 
satirical,  as  a  person  of  his  power  of  insight,  his  acuteness  of 
understanding,  must  almost  of  necessity  be  ;  and  the  genuine 
character  is  revealed  when  all  external  considerations  are 
swept  away  by  the  fierce  internal  storm.  TVhat,  again,  could 
appear  to  his  seriously  moved  mind  more  unfitting  the  terri- 
ble gravity  of  the  occasion  than  the  vulgar  curiosity  of  Ho- 
ratio and  Marcellus  ?  To  one  who  is  profoundly  and  solely 
afi*ected  by  some  huge  and  painful  sorrow,  it  is  positively 
afiflicting  when  indifferent  spectators  come  forward  with  eager 
curiosity,  complacent  commentary,  or  superficial  sympathy. 
However  friendly  the  intention,  their  stand-point  is  so  far 
removed  from  that  of  the  sufferer,  that  there  can  be  no  real 
community  of  thought  or  feeling:  to  the  lost  souls  in  hell  it 
were  scarce  any  alleviation  of  their  unutterable  woe  to  know 
that  the  angelic  hosts  of  heaven  grieve  for  their  sufferings. 
Feeling  the  character  of  their  eager  curiosity,  Hamlet  pru- 
dently does  not  trust  his  friends  on  the  instant  with  the 
knowledge  of  what  might  excite  their  chattering  wonder. 
No  ;  the  ghost  had  not  spoken  to  them  ;  it  had  selected  him  : 
from  him  the  tormented  spirit  demanded  revenge  and  rest ;  on 
him,  the  son  of  a  murdered  father,  was  imposed  the  task  of 
avenging  his  royal  father  ;  in  circumstances  of  unparalleled  dif- 
ficulty he  must  trust  only  to  his  own  right  hand.  This,  then, 
becomes  clear,  that  he  must  secture  secrecy  and  time  for  re- 
flection ;  and  so,  leaving  the  wild  and  whirling  words  in  which 
his  overladen  nature  had  taken  instinctive  refuge  from  the 
tension  of  great  passion,  he  seriously  begs  his  friends  to  over- 


HAMLET.  129 

roaster  at  they  may  their  desire  to  learn  what  the  ghost  has 
said,  and  swears  them  never  to  make  known  what  they  have 
seen: 

"  And  what  so  poor  a  man  as  Hamlet  is 

May  do,  to  express  his  love,  and  friending  to  you, 

God  willing,  shall  not  lack.    Let  us  go  in  together ; 

And  still  your  fingers  on  your  lips,  I  pray. 

The  time  is  out  of  joint ; — 0  cursed  spite, 

That  ever  I  was  born  to  set  it  right  1  " 

It  is  these  last  words  that  are  so  exceeding  melancholy; 
they  contain,  as  Goethe  said,  the  key  to  Hamlet's  whole  be- 
havior. Are  they  not  tremulous  also  with  the  forebodings 
of  failure  ?  They  prove,  at  any  rate,  that  Hamlet  was  con- 
scious that  his  life  must  henceforth  be  a  sacrifice  to  the  great 
deed  which  had  been  imposed  upon  him  as  a  duty.  Fate 
had  ordained  him  to  it ;  and  yet  the  fate  which  his  character 
was,  rendered  him  unequal  to  it.     "  0  cursed  si)ite  !  " 

The  life  of  man  is  the  definite  result  of  fixed  relations  be- 
tween the  individual  and  circumstances  ;  and  the  events  of 
its  evolution  take  place  in  accordance  with  laws  which, 
though  little  known — almost,  indeed,  unknown — are  yet  as 
certain  as  those  which  govern  the  motions  of  planets  in  their 
orbits.  In  the  pathless  immensity  of  the  heavens  these  can- 
not miss  their  way ;  and  how  little  must  be  his  insight  who 
can  think  that  man  passes  unguided  through  space  and  time ! 
But  because  the  multiplicity  of  elements  and  the  complexity  of 
conditions  are  so  great,  it  is  quite  impossible  to  determme  the 
relations  of  human  events,  and  to  predict  their  occurrence. 
This,  however,  is  clear — that  the  greatest  is  he  who  deter- 
mines as  much  as  possible  circumstances,  and  is  as  little  as 
possible  determined  by  them.  Gratifying  and  instructive  is 
the  spectacle  of  an  heroic  man  with  a  definite  aim  before  him, 
pressing  forward  with  steadfast  perseverance  toward  it; 
putting  aside  one  hinderance  after  another ;  wisely  adapting 
himself  to  what  cannot  be  prevented ;  and  ultimately  attain- 
ing to  the  goal  which  he  had  set  himself.  Such  a  one  does 
not  make  tragedy  of  his  life;  for,  if  circumstances  are  too 


i30  ESSAYS. 

strong  for  him,  lie  accommodates  himself  to  circnmstancea, 
and  in  the  end  conquers  by  obeying :  he  has  a  definite  aim 
before  him,  and  works  definitely  for  it.  Having  possessed 
his  soul  in  patience,  he  can  endure  whatever  may  betide : 
"It  is  the  same  to  him  who  wears  a  shoe  as  if  the  whole 
world  were  covered  with  leather."  When  a  man,  however, 
goes  on  aimlessly  or  carelessly  ravelling  the  threads  of  his 
life,  he  has  no  right  to  be  surprised  if  the  character  of  the 
web  is  determined  for  him.  Such  a  one  is  liable  to  become 
the  victim  of  circumstances,  and,  sorely  pressed  by  them, 
he  groans  under  the  cruel  harshness  of  Fate,  and  pours  out 
unavailing  wails  to  an  indifi*erent  Heaven. 

Tragedy  is  man  driven  to  destruction  by  circumstances. 
The  nobler  the  sufi*erer's  aim,  the  more  constant  his  fortitude, 
the  more  violent  his  struggles,  the  intenser  his  agonies — the 
greater  is  the  tragedy.  Xothing  can  surpass  in  grandeur  of 
conception  that  type  of  all  tragedy — Prometheus  bound  with 
adamantine  chains  to  the  bleak  rock  against  which  the  piti- 
less waves  of  the  earth-encircling  ocean  in  unvarying  monot- 
ony dashed,  and — a  victim  of  unspeakable  sufi"ering  and  of 
cruel  injustice  at  the  hands  of  the  might-possessing,  right- 
spurning  tyrant  of  Olympus — lamenting  in  bitter  anguish  of  his 
soul  that  such  should  be  the  reward  of  philanthropic  labor  : 

Toiavra  a-Tjvpu  rov  (piXavOp^Tzov  rpSTVov. 
How  mournful  yet  how  grandly  impressive  the  representa- 
tion of  his  wailing  appeal  to  the  waves  of  the  ocean  in  their 
multitudinous  laughter !  TVhosoever  would  complain  might 
do  well  to  think  of  Nature's  indifference,  to  call  to  mind  the 
wild  wail  of  Prometheus  and  the  answering  ttovtiuv  Kv/ndrov 
avi]pi6[jLov  ytlaafia.  It  is  grievous  enough  to  fail  in  life,  but  it 
is  vainly  humiliating,  having  failed,  to  weep ;  ever,  to  be 
weak  is  to  be  miserable;  and,  although  we  may  sorely  la- 
ment the  tragedy  of  aiiiiserable  life,  yet,  as  beings  endowed 
with  reason,  we  must  acknowledge  that  no  one  has  unright- 
eously come  to  whatever  pass  he  may  be  in — that  he  is  justly 
as  he  is  inevitably  there,  as  the  definite  result  of  certain  co* 


HAMLET.  131 

operating  causes.  Unhappj  Lear,  raving  in  boisterous  pas- 
sion to  the  furious  blasts,  shrieking  in  senile  anguish  to  the 
flashing  lightning,  his  white  head  pelted  by  the  merciless 
storm,  is  certainly  a  pitiable  object,  but  really  a  right,  nat- 
ural, and  therefore  satisfactory  object ;  for  if  any  one  who 
has  lived  as  long  as  Lear  had  lived,  has  gained  no  better  in- 
sight into  his  relations  than  he  had,  and  knows  no  better 
than  to  do  as  he  did,  does  not  that  man  righteously  deserve 
Lear's  fate?  As  righteously  surely  as  the  man  who  drops 
a  spark  into  the  barrel  of  gunpowder  on  which  he  is  sitting 
deserves  to  ascend  with  rocket-like  rapidity  into  the  air  and 
to  descend  in  far-scattered  fragments  of  mortality,  "  a  form- 
less ruin  of  oblivion."  Great  natural  sensibility  is  quite  com- 
patible, in  persons  of  good  intellectual  endowment,  with 
what  might  seem  to  be  the  coldest  hard-heartedness;  per- 
ceiving, as  they  do,  the  causes  and  relations  of  the  most 
unwelcome  event,  they  see  it  to  be  inevitable,  and  cannot 
therefore  be  afflicted  by  it  as  those  are  who  feel  only  its  pres- 
ent painful  character  and  are  unable  to  realize  its  necessary 
relations.  Pity  is  often  the  indolent  gratification  of  self- 
feeling  which  shirks  the  duty  of  rational  investigation.  The 
question,  to  one  who  can  look  beyond  his  feelings,  is  not  al- 
together one  of  compassion  or  hard-heartedness  ;  it  is  rather 
a  question  whether  there  are  laws  in  the  universe  by  con- 
formity to  which  a  successful  end  in  life  is  reached,  and  by 
rebellion  against  which  ruin  comes.  "Whoever  will  not  profit 
by  circumstances  may  confidently  expect  circumstances  to 
profit  by  him.  The  pity  of  it  is  that,  preach  as  philosophy 
may,  man  has  often  but  little  power  of  control  over  causes 
and  conditions,  for  his  character  makes  so  much  of  his  fate. 
"  The  dice  of  the  gods  are  always  loaded." 

The  sorrowful  words  of  despondence  and  the  bitter  ex- 
clamation of  regret,  with  which  the  first  act  ends,  seem  to 
Indicate  that  Hamlet  was  conscious  of  that  weakness  in  hia 
character  which  unfitted  him  for  the  great  and  exceptional 
deed  that  had  been  imposed  upon  him.    At  the  saiue  rime, 


132 


ESSAYS. 


he  did  not  shrink  from  taking  up  his  heavy  cross ;  and  it  is 
in  his  recognition  of  the  sacrifice  which  his  life  must  hence- 
forth be  that  we  find  a  partial  explanation  of  his  rnde  be- 
havior to  Ophelia;  it  was  necessary  to  wipe  all  trivial  fond 
records  from  the  table  of  his  memory.  But  there  was  real 
suffering  in  the  strange  pantomime  in  which  he  took  a  fantas- 
tic but  reluctant  farewell  of  the  cherished  hope  of  his  life, 
real  despair  in  the  sigh  "  so  piteous  and  profound  as  it  did 
seem  to  shatter  all  Ms  bulk  and  end  his  being."  By  an  un- 
conscious self-deception,  the  grief  arising  out  of  the  gloomy 
presentiment  of  his  desperate  fate  was  transferred  in  part  to 
the  resignation  of  his  love — the  sorrow  of  his  life-sacrifice 
casting  its  deeper  shadow  over  the  sorrow  of  his  love-sacri- 
fice. Furthermore,  it  is  suflSciently  plain,  from  the  warnings 
which  Laertes  gives  to  his  sister,  from  the  commands  which 
her  father  imposes  upon  her,  and  from  her  manner  of  ad- 
dressing Hamlet,  that  his  intercourse  with  her  had  been  that 
of  a  superior  with  one  in  an  inferior  position;  it  was  of  a 
freer  and  less  respectful  character,  therefore,  than  is  custom- 
ary between  lowers  who  are  equals ;  be  had  patronized  her 
with  his  love.  Under  these  circumstances,  it  was  the  natural 
but  unworthy  consequence  of  his  feeling  of  superiority  that 
he  did  not  exhibit  that  gentle  consideration  which  he  might 
otherwise  have  done,  even  though,  in  obedience  to  her 
father,  Ophelia  had  repelled  his  letters  and  denied  his  ac- 
cess. 

The  direct  occasion  of  his  rude  and  singular  behavior  in 
the  presence  of  Ophelia  is,  however,  the  inseparable  blend- 
ing of  genuine  affliction  with  his  feigned  extravagance;  con- 
scious dissimulation  was  almost  overpowered  by  the  uncon- 
scious sincerity  of  real  grief.  In  the  moody  exaggeration  of 
his  letter  to  her  there  is  the  evidence  of  true  suffering;  but 
ho  was  compelled  to  dissimulate  because  he  could  not  trust 
e^-en  her  with  his  plans.  ISTo  design,  therefore,  could  have 
been  more  skillful  than  that  which  he  carried  into  execution ; 
the  strange  gnise  which  he  purposely  assumed  was  excellent- 


HAMLET.  133 

.y  well  conceived  to  deceive  the  king  and  those  about  him, 
initiating,  as  it  did,  with  consummate  ingenuity,  the  system- 
atic feigning  of  madness.  Nothing  was  so  likely  to  mako 
them  believe  in  the  reality  of  his  madness  as  the  conviction 
that  they  had  discovered  the  cause  of  it.  Flatter  a  man's 
intellectual  acuteness,  and  he  will  be  marvellously  indulgent 
to  your  folly  or  your  vice,  stone-blind  to  your  palpable  hy- 
pocrisy. Polonius  fell  headlong  into  the  trap  which  had 
been  set  for  him ;  the  vain  old  dotard  who  had  grown  gray 
amid  intrigues  and  lies,  who  possessed  the  memory  only 
of  wisdom,  and  who,  in  liis  professional  eagerness  to  hunt 
the  trail  of  policy,  was  stone-blind  to  the  gross  and  palpable 
realities,  seized  the  bait,  and  was  forthwith  prepared  to  set 
forth,  not  only  "the  very  cause  of  Hamlet's  lunacy,"  but, 
with  a  false  and  fruitful  invention,  the  successive  stages  of 
its  invasion.  When,  in  a  subsequent  scene,  Hamlet  says  to 
Ophelia,  "Your  father  is  a  fool,"  it  was  in  angry  and  truth- 
ful earnestness  that  he  spoke.  To  his  proud  and  sensitive 
nature  it  was  a  grave  offence  that  she  whom  he  had  loved 
should  consent  to  be  the  creature  of  her  father's  stupid  plots 
against  him,  that  she  should  sully  her  purity  and  loyalty  by 
complicity  with  a  foolish,  prating,  convenient  knave,  whose 
scheming  Hamlet  easily  saw  through,  and  whose  courtly  in- 
sincerity of  character  he  detested.  "When  he  was  alone  in 
the  world,  as  one  entrusted  with  such  a  task  as  he  was  must 
by  the  nature  of  things  be,  when  he  was  betrayed  by  friends 
and  benetted  round  with  villanies,  it  must  have  been  a  ter- 
rible grief  to  resign  his  love  for  Ophelia,  to  give  up  the  one 
dear  weakness;  but  it  must  have  added  a  pang  to  the  deep- 
est grief  to  discover  that  she  also  was  of  the  number  of  those 
who  were  conspiring  against  him.  It  was  difficult  not  to 
be  violent  under  such  circumstances,  but  the  very  violence 
of  his  conduct  was  evidence  of  his  love.  More  than  suffi- 
cient, then,  are  the  reasons  for  Hamlet's  rough  behavior  to 
Ophelia,  without  supposing  that  it  had  "no  other  excuse  but 
the  sad  excuse  of  a  disordered  mind ; "  one  can   scarcely, 


134  ESSAYS. 

indeed,  understand  why  some  should  reprobate  it  as  an  inex- 
cusable offence  to  the  innocent  simplicity  of  the  maid  who 
had  with  so  little  compunction  betrayed  him.  Here,  as 
elsewhere,  Shakespeare  will  be  found  to  be  much  more  true 
to  Nature  than  his  critics ;  he  knew  women  as  women  know 
each  other. 

On  considering  the  character  of  Hamlet  as  displayed  in 
the  events  of  the  drama,  it  is  sufficiently  easy  to  remark  that 
it  is  essentially  a  weak  character  so  far  as  power  of  action 
is  concerned.  He  is  dragged  along  by  circumstances  to 
destruction,  and,  when  dying,  does  by  the  merest  accident, 
under  a  sudden  impulse,  that  which  he  had  been  meditating 
through  the  scenes  of  a  five-act  tragedy.  It  is  noteworthy 
that  in  drama,  to  which  action  might  be  thought  essential, 
there  is  here  a  hero .  who  never  acts ;  and  yet  Shakespeare 
has  contrived  to  make  him  intensely  interesting  to  us  by  the 
clear  insight  which  he  affords  us  into  the  workings  of  his 
much  -  revolving  mind.  A  man  struggling  with  inward 
troubles  is  not  less,  but  even  more,  interesting  than  one  who 
is  fighting  with  outward  difficulties ;  only  it  is  a  very  much 
more  difficult  spectacle  for  the  artist  adequately  to  present. 
Shakespeare  has,  however,  been  eminently  successful;  by 
exhibiting  to  us  the  various  motives  which  arise  in  a  medita- 
tive mind  to  paralyze  the  strong  motive  to  a  certain  deed,  he 
has  excited  our  earnest  sympathy  for  a  character  which,  so  far 
as  action  is  concerned,  is  almost  negative.  The  catastrophe 
is  so  contrived,  therefore,  as  Goethe  has  admirably  observed, 
as  to  appear  accidental  and  a  fulfilment  of  destiny  rather  than 
the  result  of  human  acts.  In  truth,  the  character  of  Hamlet 
and  the  circumstances  in  which  it  is  placed  make  destiny ; 
and,  from  the  relations  of  the  two,  to  display  the  necessary 
law  of  the  evolution  of  fate,  would  seem  to  be  the  deepest 
aim  of  the  drama. 

It  does  not  appear  that  Hamlet  felt  any  great  moral  repug- 
nance to  the  act  which  had  been  imposed  upon  him;  and 
indeed,  at  the  time  in  which  he  is  represented  to  have  lived, 


HAMLET.  135 

revenge  for  a  father  foully  murdered — the  act  inculcated 
directly  by  a  messenger  from  the  other  world,  and  that  mes- 
senger his  father's  ghost — must  have  become  a  solemn  and 
righteous  duty.  It  is  the  meditative  character  of  his  mind 
wliich  paralyzes  the  power  of  action  ;  he  considers  events  in 
so  many  relations,  and  forecasts  possibilities  with  so  nice  an 
ingenuity  that  he  is  unable  to  come  to  any  resolution.  He 
sincerely  accepts  the  sacred  duty  which  the  buried  majesty 
of  Denmark  imposes  upon  him,  and  never  relinquishes  the 
idea  of  accomplishing  the  commanded  vengeance;  but  it  is 
the  misery  of  his  nature  that  he  is  incapable  of  dismissing  the 
idea  from  his  mind,  or  of  carrying  it  into  execution.  He 
eagerly  seeks  for  excuses  for  delaying  action  ;  to  some  extent 
he  plays  the  hypocrite  to  himself  when  he  finds  a  reason  for 
his  irresolution  in  the  uncertainty  as  to  the  ghost's  reality ; 
and  afterward,  when  he  surprises  the  king  at  prayer,  and  has 
an  excellent  opportunity  for  executing  his  task,  he  sets  forth 
an  elaborate  and  villanous  reason  for  not  doing  what  he  can- 
not resolve  to  do.  It  is  not  so  much  that  he  wishes  to  sur- 
prise the  king  in  some  deed  that  "  hath  no  relish  of  salvation 
in  it " — it  is  not  that  he  truly  cherished  the  fiendish  senti- 
ments which  he  utters — which  now  causes  him  to  let  the 
opportunity  go  by,  but  that  he  gladly  seizes  on  any  excuse 
for  procrastination.  At  a  critical  juncture,  in  which  it  might 
seem  impossible  to  coin  any  justification  for  not  acting,  Ham- 
let's active  mind  finds  a  motive  for  further  delay  in  a  reason- 
ing which  maligns  his  moral  nature,  but  which  is  in  exact 
accordance  with  his  intellectual  character. 

This  state  of  reflective  indecision  is  a  stage  of  develop- 
ment through  which  minds  of  a  certain  character  pass  before 
they  consciously  acquire  by  exercise  a  habit  of  willing.  He 
who  is  passionately  impulsive  and  has  no  hesitation  at  eigh- 
teen, is,  perhaps,  reflective  and  doubtful  at  twenty-five ;  and 
in  a  few  years  more  he  may,  if  he  develop  rightly,  be  deliber- 
ately resolute.  For  the  will  is  not  innate,  but  is  graduallj* 
built  up  by  successive  acts  of  volition  :  a  character,  as  N"ova- 


[36  ESSAYS. 

lis  said,  is  a  completely  fashioned  will.  Had  Hamlet  lived 
and  developed  bejond  the  melancholy  stage  of  life-weariness 
in  which  he  is  represented,  and  through  which  men  of  a  cer- 
tain ability  often  pass,  it  may  be  supposed  that  he  would 
have  been  affected  very  differently  by  a  deed  like  tliat  which 
was  imposed  upon  him.  Either  it  was  a  duty,  and,  according 
to  his  insight  into  its  relations,  practicable,  and  he  would 
then  lay  down  a  definite  plan  of  action ;  or  it  was  not,  ac- 
cording to  his  judgment,  practicable,  and  he  would  then  dis- 
miss the  idea  of  acting,  and  leave  things  to  take  their  course. 
As  years  pass  on,  they  bring  surely  home  to  the  individual 
the  lesson  that  life  is  too  short  for  him  to  afflict  himself 
about  what  he  cannot  help.  There  is  a  sufficiency  of  work 
in  which  every  one  may  employ  his  energies,  and  things 
irremediable  must  be  wisely  left  to  take,  unbewailed,  their 
way.  To  rail  at  the  events  of  Nature  is  nothing  else  but  the 
expression  of  an  extravagant  self-consciousness  ;  it  is  the  van- 
ity which  springs  from  an  excessive  self-feeling  that  finds  the 
world  to  be  out  of  joint,  and  would  undertake  to  set  it  right. 
He  only  would  undertake  the  government  of  the  universe 
who  cannot  govern  his  own  mind.  The  wisely-cultivated 
man,  conscious  how  insignificant  a  drop  he  is  in  the  vast 
stream  of  life,  learns  his  limitation  and  accepts  events  with 
modesty  and  equanimity. 

When  Hamlet  does  any  thing,  he  is  usually  determined  by 
some  accident,  and  acts  under  the  influence  of  a  sudden  im- 
pulse. In  fact,  as  he  said  tliat  Polonius  was  at  supper,  "  not 
where  he  eats,  but  where  he  is  eaten,"  so  we  might  say  of 
him  that  he  is  engaged  in  a  drama,  not  where  he  acts,  but 
where  he  is  acted  upon.  The  consequence  is,  that  a  variety 
of  incidents  necessarily  takes  place;  there  is  no  definite  wilJ 
giving  to  events  a  certain  direction,  and  the  progress  of  the 
play  is  delayed  accordingly.  As  Hamlet  does  not  act  upon 
the  circumstances,  they  crowd  around  him,  and  grow,  as  it 
were,  upon  him  :  more  and  raored  ifficult  does  it  become  for 
Lim  who  does  not  develop  in  proportion  to  the  development 


HAMLET.  137 

of  events,  to  act.  "  Here  is  an  oak  platted  in  a  vase  proper 
only  to  receive  the  most  delicate  of  flowers.  The  roots  strike 
out,  the  vessel  flies  to  pieces."  Hamlet's  deliberative  inac- 
tion and  his  impulsive  action  alike  increase  the  difficulties 
around  him :  an  irresolute  man  is  like  a  magnet  to  attract 
difficulties  about  him ;  an  impulsive  man  often  multiplica 
them  by  his  spasmodic  energy,  which  irritates  and  increases 
antagonisms — not  otherwise  than  as  intermittent  pressure 
upon  some  part  of  the  body  solicits  a  hyi>ertrophy  of  the  tis- 
sue beneath,  when  a  continued  pressure  produces  an  atrophy. 
He  passionately  demands  of  the  ghost — who  is  the  villanous 
author  of  his  miseries — that  with  wings  as  swift  as  medita- 
tion or  the  thoughts  of  love  he  may  sweep  to  his  revenge, 
and  in  a  little  while  doubts  whetlier  the  ghost  is  not  a  coin- 
age of  his  distempered  brain ;  he  recklessly  follows  it  when 
it  beckons  him,  registers  a  solemn  vow  to  remember  it  as 
long  as  memory  holds  its  seat,  and  quietly  takes  ship  for 
England.  He  stabs  Polonius  under  a  sudden  impulse  when 
he  hears  a  noise  behind  the  arras,  and  soliloquizes  elaborately 
when  he  finds  the  king  alone  at  his  prayers.  "When  the  pi- 
rate vessel  overtakes  the  ship  in  which  he  is  sailing  for  Eng- 
land, he  impulsively  boards  it  and  is  carried  away.  "When 
he  sees  Laertes  jump  into  Ophelia's  grave,  he  jumps  in  also, 
and  rants  more  wildly  than  Laertes.  When  he  learns  that 
the  sword  is  poisoned,  on  the  instant  he  stabs  the  king.  If 
we  except  the  scheme  by  which  he  makes  use  of  the  players, 
the  only  thing  which  he  does  deliberately  is  to  feign  madness, 
and  he  adopts  that  resolution  with  a  strange  suddenness.  As 
a  matter  of  policy,  it  was  difficult  to  see  how  such  feigning 
could  be  of  advantage  to  his  purpose  ;  as  a  matter  of  fact  it 
was  dangerous,  and  all  but  wrecked  his  design. 

The  melancholy  and  life-weary  frame  of  mind  in  which 
Hamlet  is  represented  was  exactly  th-at  likely  to  be  produced 
in  a  young  man  of  his  disposition  under  his  circumstances. 
He  was  of  a  proud  and  generous  nature,  nobly  ambitious,  the 
accomplished  scholar,  soldier,  and  courtier.     He  had  grown 


138  ESSAYS. 

np  supported  bj  Ms  great  father's  countenance,  and  accus- 
tomed to  the  respect  and  homage  which  attend  upon  the 
king's  son  and  the  expected  heir  to  the  throne.  But  his 
father  dies  suddenly,  and  his  uncle  "  pops  in  between  the 
election  and  his  hopes,"  and  not  in  a  straightforward  and 
honorable  manner  ;  but  bj  underhand  cunning  steals  the  pre- 
cious diadem  like  a  cutpurse  of  the  empire — a  treacherous, 
kindless  villain  that  he  was.  And  now  all  is  sadlv  changed. 
Hamlet  is  almost  a  stranger  in  what  was  his  father's  house, 
and  scarce  welcome  there  where  he  had  been  the  observed  of 
all  observers.  "  I  will  not,"  he  says  to  Rosencrantz  and  Guil- 
denstern,  "  sort  you  with  the  rest  of  my  servants ;  for,  to 
speak  to  you  like  an  honest  man,  I  am  most  dreadfully  at- 
tended." Though  he  is  still  the  "  most  immediate  to  the 
throne,"  though  he  has  the  voice  of  the  king  for  his  succes- 
sion in  Denmark,  his  sincere  nature  is  disgusted  by  the  ex- 
perience of  such  villany  in  a  kinsman,  as  his  ambition  is  dis- 
appointed by  the  failure  of  his  expectations,  and  his  royal 
pride  injured  by  the  attendant  diminution  of  personal  conse- 
quence. 

"  King.  How  fares  our  cousin  Hamlet  ? 
Hamlet.  Excellent,  i'  fiiith,  of  the  chamelion's  dish;  I  eat  the 
air,  promise  crammed:  you  cannot  feed  capons  so." 

It  is  not  so  much  the  loss  of  the  throne  which  overwhelms 
him — although  unconsciously  that  embitters  his  grief— as  the 
treachery  which  he  has  awakened  to.  The  loss  of  faith  in 
humanity  oppresses  his  soul ;  he  has  learned,  in  a  painful  but 
decisive  way,  that  "  a  living  dog  is  better  than  a  dead  lion." 
Those  who  a  few  months  ago  would  make  mouths  at  his  uncle, 
now  give  fifty  or  a  hundred  ducats  "for  his  picture  in  little." 
But  worse,  far  worse  than  all  the  disappointment  of  his 
expectations  is,  to  his  proud  and  sensitive  nature,  the  mar- 
riage of  his  mother.  He  feels  himself  infinitely  degraded  in 
the  bitter  degradation  of  his  mother. 

"  Would  I  had  met  my  dearest  foe  in  heaven 
Ere  I  had  seen  that  day,  Horatio  1 " 


HAMLET.  139 

That  it  should  come  to  this,  that  his  mother,  almost  hefore 
her  tears  for  so  excellent  a  king  were  dry,  should  not  merely 
desert  the  cause  of  her  only  son,  but  hastily  marry  him  who 
liad  treacherously  supplanted  her  son.  To  a  proud  nature 
what  can  be  more  afflicting  than  the  deep  disgrace  of  a  moth- 
er ?  And  as  it  is  impossible,  when  offended  with  any  one, 
not  to  think  him  worse  than  he  really  is,  so  Hamlet  becomes 
utterly  horrified  and  frantic  as  he  broods  over  his  mother's 
conduct. 

"  0  Heaven  !  a  "beast  that  wants  discourse  of  reason 
"Would  have  mourned  longer — married  with  mine  uncle, 
My  father's  brother  ;  but  no  more  like  my  father 
Than  I  to  Hercules. 

0  most  wicked  speed,  to  post 
With  such  dexterity  to  incestuous  sheets  1 
It  is  not,  nor  it  cannot,  come  to  good." 

The  matter  is  made  almost  unendurable  to  him  by  the  ex- 
ceeding activity  of  his  imagination  ;  he  torments  himself  con- 
tinually with  vivid  pictures  of  the  scenes  of  his  mother's  in- 
tercourse with  her  new  and  odious  husband.  Some  have 
been  offended  at  the  coarse  and  naked  way  in  which,  in  his 
interview  with  his  mother,  he  dwells  so  minutely  upon  the 
king's  amorous  dalliance,  and  have  censured  his  brutality ; 
they  would,  for  the  sake  of  the  proprieties,  destroy  the  con- 
sistency of  the  character,  and  Iiave  revolutions  made  with 
rose-water.  This  so-called  indelicacy  of  Hamlet  is  a  special 
excellence,  for  it  is  the  consistent  result  of  his  active  self-tor- 
turing imagination.  Truly,  imagination  has  its  pleasures, 
but  it  has  its  pains  also:  it  inspires  the  creations  of  genius, 
but  how  much  of  the  miseries  of  genius  does  it  not  create  ! 
It  has  been  said  again  that  his  language  was  unnecessarily 
violent,  and  that  he  abused  the  king  in  terms  which  were  al- 
most false  from  their  extravagance.  True ;  but  he  had  to 
produce  an  impression  on  one  who  had  eagerly  accepted  this 
man  for  her  husband,  and  showed  no  inclination  to  rue  her 


140  ESSAYS. 

indecent  and  unjust  act.  That  could  scarce  be  done  in  gentle 
tones  and  words  of  honeyed  sweetness ;  he  must  exaggerate 
like  the  actor  in  order  to  excite  a  feeling  corresponding  to 
the  reality,  and  must  thunder  the  unwelcome  truth  into  un- 
willing ears.  Of  all  things  it  seems  most  irrelevant  to  dis- 
cuss the  morality  of  Hamlet's  behavior ;  the  only  questions 
with  regard  to  it  are  wliether  it  is  true  to  IsTature  generically, 
and  whether  it  is  a  consistent  evolution  of  individual  charac- 
ter. It  should  be  borne  in  mind  that,  if  Hamlet  acted  with 
rude  violence,  he  did  not  act  with  inconsiderate  passion; 
from  a  conviction  of  duty  he  entered  his  mother's  presence 
with  a  deliberate  purpose  of  speaking  daggers.  But  how 
hard  a  thing  it  is  for  human  nature  to  escape  self-deception  I 
The  severity  with  which  he  reproached  his  mother  for  her 
quick  forgetfulness  of  his  father,  was  an  unwitting  allevia- 
tion of  the  reproaches  of  his  own  conscience  for  neglecting  to 
carry  into  effect  that  father's  solemn  injunctions;  in  rebuk- 
ing his  mother  he  rebuked  himself  also.  How  admirably 
well-timed,  therefore,  the  second  appearance  of  the  ghost! 
By  that  visitation  he  is  reminded  that  he  is  not  himself  blame- 
less, and  is  enjoined  to  spare  his  mother,  just  at  the  moment 
when  he  is  flattering  his  conscience  with  a  righteous  indigna- 
tion against  her. 

In  that  deep  gloom  which  painful  circumstances  have  pro- 
duced in  his  sensitive  mind,  the  tilings  of  the  world  may  well 
appear  stale,  flat,  and  unprofitable ;  and  in  the  fitful  exacer- 
bations of  his  melancholy,  the  tedious  formalities  of  Polonius, 
and  the  studied  exhibition  of  royal  hypocrisy,  excite  an  im- 
measurable disgust.  He  ruthlessly  strips  off  the  conventional 
delusions  from  things  and  lays  bare  the  realities ;  he  utters 
the  severest  home-truths  -with  the  greatest  satisfaction. 
"These  tedious  old  fools."  If  any  one  in  the  full  possession 
of  his  reasoning  powers  refuses  to  accept  the  delusions  of  life, 
and  persists  in  exposing  the  realities  beneath  appearances,  he 
is  so  much  out  of  harmony  with  his  surroundings,  that  he 
wHl,  to  a  certainty,  be  counted  more  or  less  insane.     Strange 


HAMLET.  141 

Strange  too,  as  it  may  seem,  it  is  nevertheless  true  tliat  such 
a  one  will  commonly  feign  to  be  more  eccentric  or  extrava- 
gant than  he  really  is.  Though  intellectually  he  can  contem- 
plate objects  and  events  in  their  extreme  relations,  his  self- 
feeling  incapacitates  him  from  regarding  himself  objectively ; 
and  there  is  a  certain  gratification  or  vanity  in  acting  extrava- 
gantly, and  in  being  thought  singular  or  mad.  Doubtless, 
there  was  some  solace  to  Hamlet's  self-feeling  in  the  mad  pan- 
tomime by  which  he  frightened  and  took  leave  of  Ophelia ; 
he  was  miserable,  but  there  was  conceit  in  his  misery.  He 
perceives  the  things  of  this  world  to  be  stale,  flat,  and  un- 
profitable ;  but,  by  reason  of  his  great  self-feeling,  he  feels 
them  much  also.  Had  he  recognized  himself  as  a  part  of  the 
stale,  flat,  and  unprofitable  things,  he  must  have  concluded 
that  his  individual  feelings  were  of  very  little  consequence  to 
the  universe,  that  there  were  many  more  woful  pageants  than 
the  scene  wherein  he  played,  and  have  thereupon  attained  to 
a  healthier  tone  of  mind.  Hamlet  possessed  a  great  power  of 
generalizing ;  bat  he  mostly  generalized  within  the  circle  of 
his  self-feeling. 

Supposing  that  Hamlet  had  set  himself  to  transcend  the 
present  by  annihilating  in  thought  those  conditions  or  gen- 
eralizations of  human  perception  which  are  called  space  and 
time ;  how  infinitely  little  must  have  seemed  the  narrow 
sphere  of  events  in  which  he  was  concerned !  For  side  by 
side  before  his  mental  eye  he  would  have,  as  it  were  in  pict- 
ure, the  countless  sufferings  which  had  been  borne  by  men 
in  every  age,  and  which  were  being  borne  in  every  part  of 
the  earth  :  minds  bowed  down  in  despair  through  the  crud- 
est oppressions,  deaths  through  lingering  agonies  of  torment, 
events  crushing  down  the  noblest  resolves,  and  self-sacrificing 
heroism  swept  away  by  the  irresistible  current  of  triumphant 
Wrong — all  these  clustered  around  him  would  be  present  to 
his  mind ;  and  among  them,  scarce  discernible,  there  would 
be  the  sorrows  of  Hamlet  the  Dane.  Man  creates  space  and 
time,  and  then  becomes  the  slave  of  his  own  creation.  Let 
1 


142  ESSAYS. 

him  emancipate  himself,  and  Socrates  is  drinking  the  liemlock 
before  his  eyes ;  in  his  ears  is  sounding  the  last  despairing  cry 
of  agony  from  the  cross  of  Calvary  ;  he  sees  the  bloody  Pied- 
montese  rolling  the  mother  and  infant  down  the  Alpine  rock ; 
and  is  an  excited  witness  of  the  martyr's  dying  agonies,  and 
glorious  victory.  Happily  or  unhappily,  self-feeling  is  too 
strong  for  such  renunciation  ;  and  each  one  thinks,  as  Ham- 
let did,  that  never  mortal  was  tried  as  he  is  tried,  and  that 
never  were  events  of  such  importance  as  those  wherein  he  is 
engaged.  "  Is  it  nothing  to  you,  all  ye  that  pass  by  ?  Behold, 
and  see  if  there  be  any  sorrow  like  unto  my  sorrow,  which  is 
done  unto  me." 

Most  people  of  a  certain  mental  capacity  pass  at  some 
period  of  their  lives  through  that  stage  of  life-weariness  whicli 
is  generated  of  great  self-feeling — the  stage  of  Byronism  or 
Werterism.  If  the  diary  of  his  youth  were  opened,  many  a 
one  might  feel  surprise,  and  something  of  shame,  at  the  woful 
feelings  recorded  there,  and  at  complaints  of  the  hollowness 
of  life  as  bitter  as  those  of  Hamlet,  without  there  having  been 
Hamlet's  cause  for  them.  It  is  a  condition  from  which  each 
one  has  to  deliver  himself,  if  he  will  develop  rightly  ;  in  one 
way  or  other  he  must  lay  the  devil  Self  wherewith  he  is  pos- 
sessed, and  press  forward  to  a  calmer  stage  of  insight  in  which 
feeling  is  subordinated  to  reason.  Whether  it  be  in  the  sor- 
rows of  Werter,  or  in  the  sorrows  of  Teufelsdrock,  in  the 
Psalms  of  David,  or  in  the  mournful  words  of  the  Preacher, 
or  in  what  other  form  it  be,  the  sorrow  must  be  embodied 
and  then  left  behind.  In  the  waste  of  turbulent  feeling,  in 
the  chaos  of  mind,  must  it  be,  as  it  was  on  creation's  first  day, 
when  the  Spirit  moving  on  the  face  of  the  water  said,  "  Let 
there  be  light,"  and  that  which  was  "  without  form  and  void  '* 
became  order  and  harmony.     The  cry  is  : 

"  Ah  !  what  should  I  he  at  fifty 
Should  Nature  keep  me  alive, 
If  I  find  the  world  so  bitter 
When  I  am  but  twenty-five? " 


ii; 


HAMLET.  143 

And  tlie  result  is  that  he  who  writes  the  "  Sorrows  ofWer- 
ter  "  at  twenty-five,  writes  "  Fanst"  at  fifty. 

Let  it  not  any  longer  escape  attention  that  the  deliberate 
feigning  of  insanity  was  an  act  in  strict  conformity  with  Ham- 
let's character ;  he  was  by  nature  something  of  a  dissimulator, 
that  faculty  having  been  born  in  him.  Though  it  is  not  said 
tliat  his  mother,  the  queen,  was  privy  to  the  murder  of  her 
husband,  yet  from  the  words  of  the  ghost,  who  prefaces  his 
revelations  by  stating  how  the  uncle  had  "won  to  his  shame- 
ful lust  the  will  of  my  most  seeming  virtuous  queen,"  it 
would  appear  that  if  she  were  not  actual  party  to  the  crime, 
she  was  something  almost  as  bad  :  and  at  any  rate,  she,  a 
matron  of  nearly  fifty  years  of  age — "an  age  at  which  the 
hey-day  of  the  blood  is  tame  and  waits  upon  the  judgment'* 
— had  within  two  months  of  her  husband's  death  rushed  with 
wicked  speed  to  incestuous  sheets.  "Well,  in  truth,  might  her 
son  exclaim,  "  0  wonderful  son,  that  can  so  astonish  a  moth- 
er !  "  But  if  Hamlet's  character  had  received  no  taint  from 
his  mother,  he  was  not  altogether  so  fortunate  on  his  father's 
side  ;  for  he  was  the  nephew  of  the  "  bloody  bawdy  villain  " 
— the  "remorseless,  lecherous,  treacherous,  kindless  villain." 
We  see,  then,  the  signification  which  there  was  in  his  speech 
to  Ophelia — "  You  should  not  have  believed  me  ;  for  virtue 
cannot  so  inoculate  our  old  stock  but  we  shall  relish  of  it." 
His  uncle,  however,  appears  to  have  absorbed  all  the  vice  of 
the  stock  for  his  generation,  as  one  member  of  a  tainted 
family  is  sometimes  seen  to  drain  off,  as  it  were,  the  bad 
blood  of  it.  Hamlet's  fatlier  was  a  brave  and  noble  king,  take 
him  for  all  in  all,  one  whose  like  would  not  be  seen  again, 
and,  compared  with  his  successor,  "Hyperion  to  a  satyr." 
In  the  shadowy  view  of  him  which  we  have  as  he  flits  past  in 
ghostly  form,  we  recognize  the  generous  tenderness  of  hig 
soul: 

"  Nor  let  thy  soul  contrive 
Against  thy  mother  aught ;  leave  her  to  Heaven." 


144  ESSAYS. 

And  again : 

"  0  step  between  lier  and  her  fighting  soul ; 
Conceit  in  weakest  bodies  strongest  works  : 
Speak  to  her,  Hamlet." 

As  a  heritage,  then,  Hamlet  has  that  hatred  of  imder-hand 
canning  and  treachery,  that  sincerity  of  nature,  which  justify 
Laertes  in  describing  him  as  "  free  from  all  contriving :  "  and, 
as  a  heritage  also,  he  lias  that  faculty  for  dissimulation  which 
is  evident  in  his  character.  Explain  it  how  we  may,  it  is 
certain  that  a  self-feeling  mortal,  who,  so  far  as  conscious  life 
is  concerned,  is  perfectly  sincere,  who  energetically  rebels 
against  the  deceit  or  wrong-doing  of  others,  is  sometimes  o'er- 
mastered  and  deceived  by  his  unconscious  nature,  so  that  he  is 
an  actual  unwitting  hypocrite  as  regards  his  own  life.  Ham- 
let is  free  from  all  contriving  with  selfish  aim  to  injure  others, 
but  he  feigns  with  sustained  method,  with  a  skill  which  could 
never  be  learned,  for  his  own  protection.  Had  he  lived,  we 
may  believe  that,  as  years  went  on,  he  would  have  more  and 
more  clearly  displayed  the  virtues  of  his  paternal  antecedent. 
"  He  was  likely,  had  he  been  put  upon,  to  have  proved  most 
royally."  Strange  as  it  may  seem,  we  not  uncommonly  ob- 
serve the  character  of  the  mother,  with  her  emotional  im- 
pulses and  subtle  but  scarce  conscious  shifts,  in  the  individual 
when  young,  while  the  calm  deliberation  and  conscious  deter- 
mination of  the  father  come  out  more  plainly  as  he  grows 
older.  Setting  aside  any  necessity  which  Shakespeare  might 
think  himself  under  to  follow  the  old  play,  it  is  in  Hamlet's 
inherited  disposition  to  dissimulation  that  we  find  the  only 
explanation  of  his  deliberately  feigning  madness,  when,  to  all 
appearances,  policy  would  have  been  much  better  served  if 
he  had  not  so  feigned.  But  he  has  a  love  of  the  secret  way 
for  its  own  sake;  to  hoist  the  engineer  with  his  own  petard, 
is  to  him  a  most  attractive  prospect;  and  he  breaks  out  into 
positive  exultation  at  the  idea  of  outwitting  Eosencrantz  and 
Guildenstern,  with  whom  he  was  to  go  to  England. 


HAMLET.  145 

"  It  shall  go  hard 
But  I  will  delve  one  yard  below  tlieir  mines, 
And  blow  them  at  the  moon ;   6>,  His  most  sweety 
When  in  one  line  two  crafts  directly  meet  I  " 

The  first  words  which  he  utters,  again,  after  the  success 
of  the  play  which  he  had  devised  to  catch  the  king,  are,  as 
Gervinus  has  pointed  out,  not  words  of  gratification  at  the 
result,  but  admiration  of  his  own  constructive  skill ;  for  he 
asks  whether  his  plot  would  not  any  day  get  him  a  fellow- 
ship in  a  company  of  players.  Again,  with  what  a  calm 
deliberation  and  congenial  cunning — no  feeling  of  disgust  at 
an  unpleasant  necessity — does  this  man  who  rails  so  bitterly 
against  his  uncle's  treachery  proceed  to  open  the  letter  which 
his  companions  carried,  ruthlessly  substituting  their  names 
for  his  own,  though  there  was  no  evidence  that  they  were 
privy  to  the  plot  against  his  life. 

Some  people  are  so  constituted  that  they  must  do  things 
in  a  secret  manner  when  there  is  no  possible  advantage  to  be 
gained  by  secrecy.  Burrowing  underground  like  moles,  they 
are  all  the  time  as  blind  as  moles  are  wrongly  said  to  be,  and 
usually  seem  to  think  that  everybody  else  is  so  too.  Hamlet 
did  not  deceive  the  crafty  king  by  his  feigned  madness ;  and 
had  not  a  stronger  power  than  human  will  been  on  his  side, 
it  would  have  gone  hard  with  him.  If,  as  he  professed,  he 
essentially  was  not  mad,  hut  mad  in  craft,  it  was  verily  a 
a  most  mad  kind  of  craft.  The  king  suspects  from  the  first 
that  there  is  some  unknown  cause  more  than  his  father's 
death  which  thus  afflicts  him,  and  is  anxious  to  discover  it ; 
he  speaks  also  of  "  Hamlet's  transformation,"  not  of  his  mad- 
ness, in  the  first  scene  with  Rosencrantz  and  Guildenstern. 
Again  in  the  next  scene  he  asks — 

"  And  can  you  by  no  drift  of  conference 
Get  from  him  why  he  puts  on  this  confusion?''^ 

And  when  Polonius,  with  senile  vanity  and  doting  garrulity, 
eets  forth  what  he  deems  to  be  the  very  cause  of  Hamlet^i 


146  ESSAYS. 

lunacy,  and  with  a  lying  invention  runs  through  the  stages 
of  its  invasion,  the  short  answers  and  abiding  doubts  of  the 
king  prove  that  he  did  not  believe  the  old  man's  story : 
"How  may  we  try  it  further?"  He  will  in  company  with 
Polonius  act  the  spy  to  satisfy  himself  whether  it  is  the  afiQic- 
tion  of  his  love  or  not  that  Hamlet  suffers  from.  And  when 
he  has  been  a  witness  of  the  scene  between  Hamlet  and 
Ophelia,  he  is  convinced  that  it  is  not  madness,  but  some- 
thing dangerous  in  his  mind,  which  is  the  cause  of  his  strange 
behavior : 

"  Love  !  his  affections  do  not  that  way  tend ; 

Nor  -what  he  spake,  though  it  lack  form  a  little, 

Was  not  hke  madness.    There's  something  in  his  soul 

O'er  which  his  melancholy  sits  on  brood ; 

And  I  do  doubt  the  hatch  and  the  disclose 

"Will  be  some  danger." 

Quickly  he  resolves  that  Hamlet  shall  go  to  England;  and 
wisely  does  he  do  so,  considering  the  words  which  he  had  just 
overheard:  "I  say  we  will  have  no  more  marriages ;  those 
that  are  married  already,  all  lut  one^  shall  live ;  the  rest  shall 
keep  as  they  are." 

The  insanity,  then,  which  Hamlet  exhibits  is  not  of  a 
simple  character.  There  is  actual  feigning,  as  he  himself  con- 
fesses, as  the  vigorous  coherence  of  his  profound  soliloquies 
and  his  unfeigned  speeches  proves,  as  the  king  plainly  recog- 
nizes, and  as  the  deep  significance  of  his  wilful  extrava- 
gances— the  "  method  in  his  madness" — testifies  ;  but  there 
is  beneath  all  that  a  real  melancholic  mood  of  mind,  a  gen- 
nine  morbid  subjectivity,  of  which  he  is  himself  keenly  con- 
scious, and  which  he  has  admirably  described :  * 

"  I  have  of  late  (but  wherefore  I  know  not)  lost  all  my  mirth, 
foregone  all  custom  of  exercise ;  and,  indeed,  it  goes  so  heavily  with 
my  disposition,  that  this  goodly  frame,  the  earth,  seems  to  me  a 

♦  This  view  is  taken  also  by  Dr.  Bucfcnill  in  his  analysis  of  the  character  of 
Hamlet,  in  the  "Psychology  of  Shakespeare,"  a  second  edition  of  which  bos 
Bi'pearcd  under  the  title  of  "  The  Mad  Folk  of  Shakespeare." 


HAMLET.  147 

Bterile  promontory ;  this  most  excellent  canopy,  the  air,  look  you— 
this  brave  overhanging  firmament ;  this  majestical  roof,  fretted  with 
golden  fire— why,  appears  no  other  thing  to  me  than  a  foul  and  pesti- 
lent congregation  of  vapors.  What  a  piece  of  work  is  man !  How 
noble  in  reason  1  how  infinite  in  faculties  I  in  form  and  moving  how 
express  and  admirable  !  in  action,  how  like  an  angel  I  in  apprehen- 
Bion,  how  like  a  god !  the  beauty  of  the  world !  the  paragon  of  ani- 
mals !  And  yet  to  me  what  is  this  quintessence  of  dust  ?  Man  de- 
lights not  me,  nor  woman  neither ;  though  by  your  smiling  you  seem 
to  say  so." 

His  great  natural  sensibility  and  his  very  active  imagina- 
tion would  combine  to  render  Hamlet  distrustful  of  himself, 
averse  to  active  courses,  and  seemingly  timid,  so  that  he 
might  justly  describe  himself  as  one  not  easily  moved  to 
anger ;  but  that  very  sensibility  of  character  would  be  the 
cause  of  great  excitability  on  the  occasion  of  a  sudden  event 
pressing  unavoidably  upon  him,  and  leaving  him  no  time  for 
reflection.  Even  in  the  feigned  exhibitions  of  madness  there 
are  sincere  outbreaks  of  his  excitable  disposition.  When  he 
would  feign,  he  is  so  genuiaely  moved  that  he  falls  out  of  his 
character,  and  speaks  with  such  sincerity  and  significance 
that  the  king  rightly  suspects  a  plot.  He  spoils  the  part 
which  he  should  play  because  he  is  too  much  interested  in 
the  events,  and  cannot  lay  aside  his  personality.  Marvellous 
beyond  all  explanation  is  the  subtile  and  artistic  skill  with 
which  Shakespeare  has  thus  preserved  the  consistency  of 
Hamlet's  real  character  amid  all  the  extravagant  displays 
of  his  assumed  character.  He  exhibits  Hamlet  in  spite  of 
himself — his  unconscious  nature  overpowering  his  conscious 
dissimulation. 

It  marks,  again,  the  intellectual  preponderance  which  was 
BO  special  a  feature  of  Hamlet's  character,  that  he  can  rea- 
son so  well  about  his  own  morbid  feeling,  and  take  deliber- 
ate steps  to  test  the  extent  of  his  infirmity.  In  such  a  miser- 
able mood  of  mind  there  is  great  cause  for  self-distrust ;  the 
ghost  which  he  has  seen  may  be  a  coinage  of  the  brain,  "  a 
subjective  bodiless  creation,  which  ecstasy  is  very  cunning  in." 


148  ESSAYS. 

"  The  spirit  that  I  have  seen 
May  be  a  devil ;  and  the  devil  hath  power 
To  assume  a  pleasing  shape  ;  yea,  and,  perhaps, 
Out  of  my  weakness  and  my  melancholy 
(As  he  is  very  potent  with  such  spirits) 
Abuses  me  to  damn  me," 

It  is  with  deliberation,  therefore,  that  lie  seeks  for  a  means 
of  testing  Lis  condition,  and  with  eagerness  that  he  embraces 
the  opportunity  which  the  arrival  of  the  players  affords  him 
of  obtaining  confirmation  of  the  ghost's  story  : 

"  If  his  occulted  guilt 
Do  not  itself  unkennel  in  one  speech, 
It  is  a  damned  ghost  that  we  have  seen ; 
And  my  imaginations  are  as  foul 
As  Vulcan's  stithy." 

"When  the  behavior  of  the  king  at  the  play  has  proved  that 
no  morbid  imagination  has  created  the  horrible  revelations 
of  the  ghost,  then  he  passionately  flings  aside  such  a  sugges- 
tion of  his  mother : 

"  Mother,  for  love  of  grace, 
Lay  not  that  flattering  unction  to  your  soul, 
That  not  your  trespass,  hut  my  madness,  speaks." 

So  sure  as  he  now  is  of  the  ghost's  reality,  still  he  does  not 
act.  Herein  how  different  does  he  show  himself  from 
Laertes  I  The  mere  wJiispers  of  calumny  excite  Laertes  to 
furious  action;  he  sends  allegiance  to  hell,  vows  to  the 
blackest  devil,  dares  damnation,  but  will  be  revenged  for  his 
father's  death;  to  that  point  he  stands,  let  come  what  come 
may.  Hamlet,  on  the  contrary,  has  the  solemn  evidence  of  a 
spirit  from  the  dead,  and  the  strongest  possible  motive  for 
revenge,  but  meditates  so  much  that  he  can  come  to  no  reso- 
lution. Laertes  is  ma^^tered  by  his  passion,  which  hurls  him 
into  desperate  action ;  Hamlet  has  such  mastery  over  passion 
that  it  cannot  become  a  sufficient  motive  for  action — his  intel- 
lectual superiority  makes  him   practically  inferior.     He  la 


HAMLET.  140 

himself  quite  aware  of  his  deficiency,  and  analyzes  his  own 
Btate  of  mind  with  great  accuracy  : 

"  Or  some  craven  scruple 
Of  thinking  too  precisely  on  the  event — 
A  thought  which,  quartered,  hath  but  one  part  wisdom, 
And  ever  three  parts  coward." 

He  recognizes  that  rightly  to  he  great  is  not  to  stir  without 
great  argument,  hut,  once  satisfied,  to  throw  aside  all  care 
for  consequences — to  make  mouths  at  the  inyisihle  event. 
He  reproaches  himself  as  ''  a  rogue  and  peasant  slave,"  that, 
with  the  motive  and  cue  for  revenge  which  he  has,  he  still 
hesitates;  and  yet  his  unconscious  nature  overmasters  his 
intellectual  consciousness,  and  he  does  nothing. 

Although  we  admit  that  Hamlet's  failing  was  want  of 
power  of  action,  it  must  he  allowed  that  Hamlet's  misfortune 
was  the  want  of  a  proper  sphere  of  action.  That  excess  of 
imagination  which  paralyzes  resolution  would  most  likely 
have  disappeared  under  a  life  of  activity :  "  The  hand  of- 
little  employment  has  the  daintier  sense."  It  is  the  fault  of 
minds  like  his  that  they  over-estimate  realities ;  they  live  in 
an  ingeniously-devised,  complex  world  of  imagination,  rather 
than  in  a  comparatively  coarse,  actual,  external  world,  and 
balance  possibilities  with  so  great  a  suhtilty  that  there  is  no 
resultant  force  of  will.  A  person  of  great  intellectual  activity 
is  prone  to  attribute  to  others  as  deep  a  penetration  into 
things  as  that  which  he  has  himself;  he  does  not  dare  to 
speculate  sufiiciently  on  the  stupidity  of  mankind.  Accord- 
ingly, the  successful  man  in  the  practical  affairs  of  life  is  he 
who  does  not  see  too  much,  who  sees  distinctly  only  that 
which  he  wishes,  and  who,  therefore,  not  doubting  himself, 
acts  with  definite  purpose  and  determined  energy.  To  the 
conscientious  man  of  great  reflective  habit,  it  is  sometimes 
a  real  affliction  when  he  must  definitely  act ;  and  he  would 
truly  do  well,  for  his  own  comfort's  sake,  to  rush  at  a  resolu- 
tion with  a  certain  wilful  blindness — to  allow,  if  need  he, 
the  fall  of  a  coiu  to  determine  his  course ;  but,  having  once 


150  ESSAYS. 

resolved  to  work  definitely  with  all  his  might  to  the  end. 
Any  one  may  deliherate  till  death  overtakes  him  before  he  is 
Bure,  and  Nature  charges  herself  with  compensation.  "  He 
that  ohserveth  the  winds  sliall  not  sow,  and  he  that  regardeth 
the  clouds  shall  not  reap."  The  longer  any  one  lives,  the  more 
deeply  is  he  satisfied  of  the  truth  of  the  saying  that  the 
world  i3  governed  with  extremely  little  wisdom ;  he  per- 
ceives that  he  has  often  given  men  credit  for  foresight  where 
they  have  wisely  held  their  peace  and  profited  by  events, 
and  that  in  a  matter  of  which  he  had  but  little  knowledge  he 
lias  sometimes  assumed  the  profoundest  policy  in  what  was 
really  a  blundering  accident.  As  the  events  of  practical  life 
insist  upon  action,  the  deliberative  man  is  ultimately  forced 
to  shut,  as  it  were,  one  eye — to  act  even  when  the  motive 
does  not  satisfy  his  intellectual  consciousness.  Custom  lends 
a  kind  of  easiness  to  subsequent  attempts,  and  that  which 
was  at  first  a  painful  trial  becomes  in  time  an  easy  habit. 

The  shortness  of  his  allotted  span,  and  the  exigencies  of 
life,  will  not  permit  any  one  the  luxury  of  over-estimating 
his  powers  or  his  responsibilities ;  he  must  be  content  as  an 
atom  doing  its  inevitable  work  in  the  universe,  accepting 
calmly  the  fate  of  his  nature,  cast  his  follies  and  his  wise  acts 
with  equal  tranquillity  into  the  great  whole,  which,  under  the 
guiding  law  of  its  destiny,  will  surely  shape  them  to  their 
proper  ends.  Were  a  man  but  to  think  of  it,  the  responsi- 
bility of  not  acting  is  sometimes  infinitely  greater  than  that 
of  the  most  rash  act.  Suppose  that  Hamlet  had  killed  the 
king  directly  he  was  appointed  by  Nature  the  minister  of  its 
revenge,  what  a  host  of  calamities  would  have  been  spared! 
Then  Ophelia  had  not,  after  a  miserable  madness,  been 
drowned ;  her  father  had  not  been  accidentally  stabbed  ;  Ros- 
encrantz  and  Guildenstern  would  not  then  have  been  exe- 
cuted ;  and  Hamlet  himself,  his  mother,  and  Laertes,  would 
not  have  perislied  in  a  common  ruin.  A  catalogue  of  horrors 
was  the  result  of  Hamlet's  great  feeling  of  responsibility  in 
the  important  scene  wherein  he  played,  as  in  humbler  scenes 


HAMLET.  161 

a  catalogue  of  mischiefs  is  frequently  the  result  of  an  irreso- 
lution springing  from  an  over-estimated  responsibility.  Let  a 
man  be  never  so  wise,  he  must  sometimes  drift  at  the  mercy  of 
fate,  without  anchorage  ;  and  let  a  man  be  never  so  fool-hardy, 
fortune  will  sometimes  bring  his  boat  safely  into  the  harbor, 
"  The  race  is  not  to  the  swift,  nor  the  battle  to  the  strong,  nor 
yet  riches  to  men  of  understanding,  nor  yet  favor  to  men  of 
skill ;  but  time  and  chance  happeneth  to  them  all " — a  truth 
which  Hamlet  had  not  failed  to  recognize  in  his  experience : 

"  Eashly, 
And  praised  be  rashness  for  it;  let  us  know 
Our  indiscretion  sometimes  serves  us  well, 
•Where  our  deep  plots  do  pall ;  and  that  should  teach  us 
There's  a  divinity  that  shapes  our  ends, 
Eough-hew  them  how  we  will." 

How  admirably  throughout  the  play  is  exhibited  the  want 
of  harmony  which  so  often  exists  between  intellectual  specu- 
l-'ition  and  the  feelings  which  are  the  genuine  utterance  or 
mirror  of  the  nature — the  conscious  life  over  which  there  is 
control,  and  the  unconscious  life  which  so  constantly  over- 
takes and  overpowers  the  individual!  It  is  as  if  Shake- 
speare had  wished  to  point  out  that,  how  wisely  soever  man 
may  reason,  it  is  still  impossible  for  him  to  shake  off  the  un- 
reasonable feelings  which  are  deeply  planted  in  his  nature. 
The  irresolution  of  Hamlet  is  in  part  owing  to  a  continual 
oscillation  between  these  warring  elements  of  a  nature  not  in 
harmony  with  itself.  The  king  proves  to  him  with  convinc- 
ing logic  that  it  is  folly  to  indulge  an  unceasing  grief  for  a 
father  dead;  but,  notwithstanding  that  the  arguments  are 
unanswerable,  Hamlet  is  not  cheered.  To  shufl3e  off  this  mor- 
tal coil  Hamlet  perceives  to  be  a  consummation  devoutly  to 
be  wished;  and  yet  the  unaccountable  fear  of  something 
after  death  sicklies  o'er  the  native  hue  of  resolution.  Imagi- 
nation, not  considering  too  curiously,  may  follow  the  noble 
dust  of  Alexander  to  the  bung-hole,  and  yet  Hamlet  cannot 
but  fear  that  death  may  not  be  a  dreamless  slumber  from 


162  ESSAYS. 

whicli  no  archangel's  trump  shall  ever  wake  him.  Reason 
as  convincingly  as  philosophy  may,  it  never  convinces  the 
feelings;  though  dismissed  with  excellent  and  unanswerable 
logic,  tliey  return  again  and  again,  and,  like  Rachel  w'eeping 
for  her  children,  refuse  to  be  comforted.  "What,  indeed,  does 
philosophy  avail,  "  unless  philosophy  can  make  a  Juliet  ?  " 

"  Go  to :  it  helps  not— it  prevails  not.    Talk  no  more." 

The  appearance  of  the  forces  of  young  Fortinbras,  and 
Hamlet's  soliloquy  after  his  encounter  with  them,  have  been 
thought  by  some — even  by  Goethe — to  be  needless  events» 
which  uselessly  delay  the  action,  and  improperly  dissipate  the 
reader's  attention.  But  is  it  not  in  exact  accordance  with 
Hamlet's  irresolution  that  the  action  of  the  drama  should  be 
delayed  ?  Is  it  not  well  that  the  reader's  imagination  should  be 
made  to  wander,  and  by  presenting  a  sort  of  reflection  of  the 
manifold  considerations  of  the  much-meditating  Hamlet,  en- 
force a  certain  sympathy  with  him  ?  Xot  only,  however,  does 
this  scene  exhibit  Fortinbras,  who  "  for  a  fantasy  and  trick  of 
fame,"  "  even  for  an  egg-shell,"  is  content  to  expose  himself  to 
danger  and  death,  as  a  striking  contrast  to  Hamlet,  who,  with 
the  strongest  motive  for  revenge,  can  do  no  more  than  "  un- 
pack his  heart  with  words,  and  fall  a-cursing  like  a  very  drab ;  " 
but  it  affords  to  Hamlet  an  excellent  occasion  for  a  close  self- 
analysis,  and  seems  to  reveal  to  us  a  real  development  of  his 
character.  At  our  first  meeting  him  it  is  immediately  after  his 
father's  death,  when  he  has  just  returned  from  college,  and 
when  we  may  justly  think  that  he  has  come  upon  his  first  ser- 
ious trial  in  life  ;  but,  in  his  sohloquy  after  meeting  with  For- 
tinbras, we  see  his  character  as  it  has  been  developed  before 
our  eyes  under  the  severe  but  successful  training  of  a  mighty 
Borrow : 

"  Niglit  brings  out  stars,  as  sorrows  show  us  truths." 

It  is  not  a  passionate  and  furious  soliloquy  like  that  in 
which  he  bursts  out  after  his  interview  w^ith  the  players, 
when  he  reviles  himself  as  a  rogue  and  peasant  slave,  and 


HAMLET.  153 

♦ashes  himself  into  a  great  furj ;  it  is  not  the  gloomy  medita- 
tion of  a  morbid  mind,  wishful  to  end  by  self-destruction  the 
heartache  and  the  thousand  natural  woes  that  flesh  is  heir 
to ;  but  it  is  a  passionless  and  intellectual  soliloquy,  at  the 
end  of  which  he  makes  a  deliberate  resolution.  In  tlie  pre- 
vious soliloquy  he  is  violent  and  demonstrative,  but  the  pas- 
sion subsides,  and  with  it  the  resolution  vanishes.  As  calm- 
ness returns,  matters  do  not  seem  so  clear;  the  ghost  may 
have  deceived  him;  action  seems  most  desperate;  and  the 
determination — as  all  emotional  resolves  not  at  once  carried 
into  effect  are  apt  to  do — melts  away  : 

"  What  to  ourselves  in  passion  we  propose, 
The  passion  ending,  doth  the  purpose  lose." 

But  now  that  he  has  definitely  resolved,  after  reflection, 
to  execute  the  vengeance  with  which  he  is  charged,  he 
makes  a  deliberate  resolution  of  the  will : 

"  O,  from  this  time  forth 
My  thoughts  be  bloody,  or  be  nothing  worth." 

Shakespeare's  views  of  destiny  very  closely  resemble  those 
which  are  met  with  in  ^schylus  and  the  ancient  poets.  The 
fatal  catastrophe  in  "  Hamlet "  is  so  contrived,  it  has  been 
said,  as  to  appear  a  fulfilment  of  destiny  rather  than  the  re- 
sult of  human  act ;  but  it  is  the  marvellous  excellence  of 
Shakespeare  that  he  represents  his  characters  as  a  part  of 
destiny;  the  consummation  is  exhibited  as  the  inevitable 
product  of  the  individual  character  and  the  circumstances  in 
which  it  was  placed.  Hence  it  is  that  his  villains,  though 
monstrously  wicked,  as  lago,  or  unnaturally  cruel,  as  the 
bastard  Edmund,  do  not  excite  unmitigated  anger  and  disgust, 
but  rather  interest  and  a  sort  of  intellectual  sympathy,  and 
that  the  virtues  of  his  best  characters  appear  not  as  merits, 
but  as  necessary  results  of  their  natures.  He  always  imi)lies 
.a  difference  in  nature  between  one  person  and  another, 
••wherein  they  are  not  guilty,"  or  wherein  they  are  not 
meritorious,  and  displays  in  a  natural  evolution  the  necessary 


154  ESSAYS. 

result  which  the  fate  of  his  character  and  his  circumstances 
makes  for  each  one. 

How  surely  do  all  things  work  together  in  "Hamlet"  to 
the  dreadful  catastrophe!  The  pirate-ship,  appearing  from 
unknown  regions  of  the  ocean,  has  its  appointed  part  equally 
with  the  impulsive  character  of  Hamlet  in  accomplishing  the 
.unavoidable  destiny.  The  king  exercises  foresight,  and  plots 
desperately  to  ward  off  the  evil ;  but  the  hand  of  Fate  is 
against  him,  and  his  deep-laid  schemes  are  confounded  by  the 
most  unexpected  accident.  Hamlet  cannot  lay  down  a  plan 
of  action  for  doing  what  he  must  do  ;  but  the  hand  of  Fate 
is  with  him  and  drives  him  on  to  his  end.  "  The  hour  of 
doom  arrives,  and  the  innocent  and  the  guilty,  the  erring  and 
the  avenger,  all  perish."  And  yet,  had  not  Hamlet  accident- 
ally stabbed  Polonius  behind  the  arras,  his  secret  would  have 
been  betrayed  to  the  king ;  had  he  not  by  chance  got  hold  of 
the  poisoned  foil  in  his  combat  with  Laertes,  the  king  might 
have  lived  on  in  his  sceptred  guilt.  In  the  end  it  was  the 
merest  chance  that  Hamlet  did  live  to  accomplish  his  re- 
venge ;  for  he  was  the  first  wounded  by  the  envenomed 
rapier,  and  might  easily  have  died  before  Laertes,  who  tells 
him  of  the  king's  treachery.  And  when  he  does  stab  the 
king,  it  is  rather  an  impulsive  act  of  vengeance  for  the  last 
villany  disclosed  than  from  any  remembrance  of  his  father's 
murder  or  the  command  of  his  father's  ghost;  he  becomes 
at  last  the  accidental  instrument  of  a  punishment  which  he 
had  long  schemed,  but  schemed  in  vain.  But  retribution  for 
the  wicked  king  was  written  down  in  the  book  of  destiny ; 
Nature  sent  forth  a  spirit  from  her  secret  realms  to  declare  it, 
and  human  wall  was  powerless  to  hasten  or  avert  the  hour 
of  doom. 

With  what  a  terrible  and  gradually-evolving  certainty, 
again,  does  the  crime  of  the  king  revenge  itself !  The  curse 
of  his  crime  tracks  the  culprit  with  an  unrelenting  persisten- 
cy ;  though  he  hide  never  so  cunningly,  turn  again  and  again 
in  his  course,  and  struggle  with  unspeakable  energy,  yet  it 


HAMLET.  156 

bi  ings  him  down  at  last.  All  the  perfumes  of  Arabia  cannot 
Bweeten  the  murderer's  hand,  nor  all  the  waters  in  the  ocean 
wash  out  that  single  drop  of  blood : 

"  Is  there  not  rain  enough  in  the  sweet  heavens 
To  wash  it  white  as  snow  ?  " 

No;  foul  deeds  will  rise  to  men's  eyes  though  all  the 
earth  overw^helm  them;  and  "murder,  though  it  have  no 
tongue,  will  speak  with  most  miraculous  organ."  The  death 
of  Polonius,  which  the  king  would  on  every  account  so  will- 
ingly have  prevented,  becomes  the  cause  of  undeserved  sus- 
picion against  him,  and  the  instrument  of  his  humiliation ; 
"  the  people  are  muddied,  thick  and  unwholesome  in  their 
thoughts  for  good  Polonius's  death  ;  "  and  "  it  has  been  but 
greenly  done  in  hugger-mugger  to  inter  him ; "  the  mob, 
hasty  and  violent  tJien  as  a  Danish  mob  is  still,  arraign  the 
king's  person,  and  cry,  "Laertes  shall  be  king!  "  The  inco- 
herences of  Ophelia,  made  mad  by  her  father's  death,  her 
"  winks,  nods,  gestures,"  move  the  hearers  to  collection,  and 
"throw  dangerous  conjectures  into  ill-breeding  minds," 
which  "  botch  the  words  up  to  fit  their  own  thoughts." 
The  ominous  clouds  are  closing  darkly  in  on  the  sultry  day, 
the  muttering  of  the  threatening  thunder  is  heard  in  the  dis- 
tance, and  the  fatal  flash  of  the  avenging  lightning  is  every 
moment  dreaded.  "  Each  toy  seems  prologue  to  some  great 
amiss,"  and  sorrows  coming,  not  "single  spies,  but  in  battal- 
ions," give  superfluous  death.  For  the  queen's  sake,  whom 
his  crime  has  made  his  wife,  and  because  of  the  love  which 
the  distracted  multitude  bear  to  Hamlet,  whom  his  crime  has 
bereaved  of  father  and  of  place,  he  cannot  proceed  directly 
against  him.  The  gratifications  which  his  sin  has  gotten  him 
become  fetters  to  prevent  him  from  evading  its  consequences. 

"  She  is  so  conjunctive  to  my  life  and  soul. 
That,  as  the  star  moves  not  but  in  his  sphere, 
I  could  not  but  by  her." 

The  consequences  of  a  great  crime,  like  the  slimy  folds  of 


156  ESSAYS. 

Bome  horrible  serpent,  coil  faster  and  faster  ronnd  the  strug- 
gling victim  ;  he  strains  at  first  with  determined  silent  effort 
and  vehement  energy  to  nndo  them ;  then,  as  strength  fails, 
and  fatal  Fate  approaches,  with  shrieking  cries  and  convul- 
sive agonies,  until  at  last  we  heartily  pitv  his  fierce  anguish, 
and  pray  for  the  end  of  the  terrible  tragedy.  The  blessing  or 
the  curse  of  an  act  is  its  eternity ;  the  pity  of  a  wicked  act  is 
that  it  often  involves  the  innocent  with  the  guilty  in  a  com- 
mon ruin  :  "  One  sinner  destroyeth  much  good." 

Because  poetical  justice  does  not  happen  in  the  world, 
therefore  Shakespeare  does  not  make  it  his  business  to 
do  poetical  justice :  he  exhibits  the  gradual  evolution  of 
events  and  develops  actions  in  their  necessary  consequences, 
neither  approving  nor  censuring  ;  the  moral  lesson  which  his 
works  teach  is  the  moral  lesson  which  isTature  teaches.  Of  all 
things,  the  most  presumptuous  and  ignorant  is  that  criticism 
which  imputes  it  to  Shakespeare  as  a  fault  or  a  crime  that  he 
has  not  shown  a  sufficient  partisanship  for  virtue,  that  he 
has  with  tranquil  indifference  permitted  the  innocent  equal- 
ly with  the  guilty  to  suffer  and  perish  when  the  law  of  events 
demanded  it.  To  the  sentimental  idealist  it  would  have 
been  far  more  pleasing  if  a  miracle  had  interposed  and  stayed 
the  operation  of  natural  law,  so  that  Cordelia  might  not  have 
been  strangled  like  a  dog,  and  Ophelia  might  not  have  been 
miserably  drowned.  Some  such  a  critic  it  was  who  blamed 
Goethe  for  making  TVerter  commit  suicide,  instead  of  rather 
making  him  repent  and  become  a  moral  and  a  model  young 
man.  Some  such  a  critic  it  must  have  been  who  found  the 
death  of  Hamlet  to  be  cruel  and  unnecessary.  Alas  that  an 
angel  did  not  still  the  troubled  waters,  and,  putting  forth  a 
helping  hand,  rescue  Hamlet  from  the  whirlpool  of  events  in 
which  he  was  struggling  !  An  angel  not  appearing,  however, 
it  was  inevitable  that  natural  law  should  take  its  course,  and 
that  the  much-meditative,  indecisive,  and  impulsive  Hamlet 
should  be  crushed  out  by  the  inexorable  march  of  events. 
Those  who  will  find  a  moral  in  the  matter  may  find  it  in  thia 


I 


i 


HAMLET.  157 

iustructive  reflection  :  that  Hamlet,  who  had  made  so  large  a 
use  of  guile  during  his  life,  himself  perishes  at  last  the  victim 
of  guile.  It  is  plain  that  Hamlet  has  a  recognition  of  the  fate 
of  which  hie  is  alike  the  victim  and  the  instrument.  Crime 
has  no  meaning  for  him  who  is  appointed  by  Nature  the  min- 
ister of  its  revenge :  "  There  is  nothing  good  or  bad,  but 
thinking  makes  it  so ;  "  and  it  causes  him  no  sorrow  when  he 
has  slain  the  "unseen  good  old  man." 

"  Thou  wretched,  rash,  intruding  fool,  farewell '  " 

And  again : 

"  For  this  same  lord 
I  do  repent.     But  Heaven  hath  pleased  it  so — 
To  punish  me  with  this,  and  this  with  me, 
That  I  must  be  their  scourge  and  minister.'''' 

Tlius  commissioned,  how  could  he  afflict  himself  because  a 
"foolish  prating  knave,"  whose  life  had  been  a  system  of  in- 
trigues, perishes  the  victim  of  his  own  scheming  policy?  In 
the  path  of  Hamlet's  destiny,  as  in  the  course  of  Nature,  hu- 
man life  is  of  little  account : 

"  'Tis  dangerous  when  the  baser  nature  comes 
Betwixt  the  pass  and  fell  incensed  points 
Of  mighty  opposites." 

By  an  inexorable  necessity  he  must  finish  his  course  what- 
ever may  betide :  he  cannot  turn  aside  to  deplore  an  old  man 
killed,  or  even  hold  back  to  spare  the  fair  and  gentle  Ophelia, 
as  the  scorching  lava-torrent  cannot  turn  aside  its  course  to 
let  the  modest  violet  live. 

It  is  in  this  feeling  of  the  sacrifice  which  he  must  be  to 
his  fate  that  we  find  the  interpretation  of  the  towering  pas- 
sion into  which  Hamlet  falls  at  Ophelia's  grave.  "  Oh,  'tis 
easy  enough,"  might  be  his  reflection,  "  to  make  loud  wail 
and  to  invoke  with  passionate  clamor  the  silent  heavens; 
but  what  sort  of  grief  is  that  which  utters  itself  bo  loudly? 
Ophelia  is  dead;  but  could  I  not  weep  for  her!  " 


158  ESSAYS. 

"  I  loved  Ophelia ;  forty  thousand  brothers 
Could  not,  with  all  their  quantity  of  love, 
Make  up  my  sum." 

Am  not  I  of  all  mortals  most  wretched,  that  Orestes-like  I 
am  made  the  undesired  instrument  of  Fate,  and  that  benetted 
round  with  vilumies  I  must  go  my  unhappy  course,  fatal  to 
those  whom  I  most  loved,  cruel  to  those  to  whom  iTature  bids 
me  be  kind  ?  But  one  life  ! — think  of  that — and  it  doomed  to 
be  a  sacrifice !  I  too  could  rant ;  but  it  is  no  matter — do  what 
you  may,  you  are  sure  to  be  misunderstood : 

"Let  Hercules  himself  do  what  he  may, 
The  cat  will  mew,  and  dog  will  have  his  day." 

In  that  outbreak  we  have  the  genuine  utterance  of  Ham- 
let's deeply-moved  and  fiercely-tried  nature — an  outburst  of 
the  pent-up  feelings  ;  and  immediately  afterward  be  is  sorry 
that  he  has  so  forgotten  and  revealed  himself;  a  proud  and 
sensitive  nature  is  ashamed  of  the  exhibition  of  great  emotion, 
and  angry  that  it  has  descended  to  explain.  But,  in  truth, 
the  occasion  was  most  provoking:  to  Hamlet,  so  conscien- 
tious, so  full  of  consideration,  so  carefully  weighing  the  con- 
sequences of  his  actions,  so  deeply  feeling,  and  so  sincerely 
abhorring  mere  passionate  exclamation,  it  must  have  been  in- 
tensely irritating  to  witness  the  violent  and  noisy  demon- 
stration of  Laertes — a  violence  which  surely  betrayed  a  grief 
not  very  deep.   It  is  so  easy,  such  a  relief,  to  rant  and  mouth : 

"  Nav,  an  thou'lt  mouth, 
I'll  rant  as  well  as  thou." 

Self-consciousness  returns  even  while  he  is  in  the  full 
burst  of  his  passion :  his  great  reflection  scarce  deserts  him 
for  a  moment ;  he  knows  that  he  is  ranting. 

Before  taking  a  final  and  reluctant  leave  of  Hamlet,  in 
whose  company  it  would  be  easy  and  most  agreeable  to  mul- 
tiply pages  into  sheets,  let  us  take  notice  of  his  last  words  to 
Horatio — more  mournful  words  than  which,  mortal  never  ut- 
tered : 


HAMLET.  169 

*'  Hamlet.  But  tliou  wouldst  not  think  how  ill  all's  here  about  my 
heart :  but  it  is  no  matter. 

Horatio.  Nay,  good  my  lord. 

Hamlet.  It  is  but  foolery ;  but  it  is  such  a  kind  of  gain-giving  as 
would,  perhaps,  trouble  a  woman. 

Horatio.  If  your  mind  dislike  any  thing,  obey  it :  I  will  forestall 
their  repair  hither,  and  say  you  are  not  fit. 

Hamlet.  Not  a  whit ;  we  defy  augury  ;  there  is  a  special  providence 
in  the  fall  of  a  sparrow.  If  it  be  now,  'tis  not  to  come  ;  if  it  be  not  to 
come,  it  will  be  now ;  if  it  be  not  now,  yet  it  will  come  :  the  readiness 
is  all.  Since  no  man,  of  aught  he  leaves,  knows  what  is't  to  leave  be- 
times.   Let  be." 

In  the  tone  of  Hamlet's  words  at  the  close  of  the  first  act 
there  was  the  formless  presentiment  of  coming  misery ;  and 
now  again,  in  words  which  are  almost  his  last,  there  comes 
over  him  the  dark  foreboding  of  the  final  catastrophe.  The 
colossal  shadow  of  his  tragical  end  is  projected  over  the  clos- 
ing scenes  of  his  life,  and  his  feeling  thrills  to  its  gloomy  in- 
spiration. As  the  appointed  minister  of  Nature's  vengeance 
for  a  great  crime,  he  is  in  most  intnnate  harmony  with  the 
rest  of  Nature,  and  an  instinctive  feeling,  mysterious  and  in- 
explicable, forecasts  unconsciously  that  issue  by  which  it  is 
subsequently  interpreted.  He  defies  augury  from  a  convic- 
tion that  his  hour  must  come  at  the  appointed  time.  "With 
the  unfailing  certainty  of  destiny  it  comes ;  the  "  self-sacrifice 
of  life  is  o'er ;  "  and  the  "  rest  is  silence." 

One  lesson  which  Shakespeare  implicitly  teaches  is  a  les- 
son of  infinite  tolerance  as  the  result  of  deep  insight  and 
a  comprehensive  view.  Heartily  do  we  sympathize  with 
Hamlet  is  his  great  sorrow  and  sore  trial ;  we  esteem  the 
faithful  friendship  and  admire  the  cool  judgment  of  Horatio ; 
the  treachery  of  Laertes,  so  greatly  provoked  as  he  was  by 
events,  does  not  excite  unmitigated  horror  and  render  him 
inexcusably  hateful — his  repentance  we  accept  with  sincere 
satisfaction  ;  and  even  the  wicked  king  inspires  sorrow  rather 
than  anger,  though  we  abhor  his  deeds,  and  as  he  kneels  to 
pray  we  would  certainly  forgive  his  crime  if  the  decision  lay 


160  ESSAYS. 

with  us:  believing  that  God  will  be  kind  to  the  wicked,  as 
he  has  been  kind  to  the  good  in  making  them  good,  we  can- 
not give  up  the  comforting  hope  that,  after  the  day  of  ret- 
ribution, the  fratricidal  king  may  find  rest.  No  poet  save 
Goethe  approaches  Shakespeare  in  the  tolerant  and  emanci- 
pated point  of  view  from  which  he  contemplates  humanitv. 
On  account  of  this  surpassing  excellence,  some,  fired  by  the 
restless  presumption  of  their  own  infirmities,  have  dared  to 
find  fault  with  Shakespeare ;  they  have  blamed  him  because 
he  has  exhibited  moral  ugliness  unveiled,  because  he  was  not 
sufficiently  patriotic,  and  because  he  seemed  more  skeptical 
^than  was  fitting.  Imperturbable  assurance !  As  if  Shake- 
speare's far-seeing  vision  and  penetrating  insight  could  any- 
where detect  inexcusable  vice;  as  if  his  mighty  mind  could 
be  fettered  by  the  littleness  of  skepticism,  or  could  conde- 
scend to  the  selfishness  of  patriotism  !  Is  it  really  a  matter 
for  regret  to  any  mortal  that  Shakespeare  has  not  given  us 
the  demented  twaddle  of  the  Civis  Eomanusf 

From  the  evidence  of  his  sonnets  and  of  diff'erent  plays — 
indeed,  from  the  character  of  Hamlet  himself— there  can  be 
no  doubt  tliat  Shakespeare  was  at  one  time  much  tried,  dis- 
heartened, and  oppressed  by  the  harsh  experiences  of  life ; 
he  began,  doubtless,  as  many  others  have  done,  by  thinking 
life  "  a  paradise,"  and  found  it,  as  others  have  done,  "  only  a 
Yauxhall."  But  as  Goethe  advanced  from  the  storminess  of 
Werter  to  the  calmness  of  Faust,  so  did  Shakespeare  rise  in  a 
glorious  development  from  the  subjective  character  of  Timon 
to  that  lofty  and  pure  region  of  clear  vision  from  which  he 
contemplated  the  actions  of  men  with  infinite  calmness.  His 
practical  life  was  correspondent ;  by  bending  his  actions  to 
the  yoke  of  his  intellectual  life — by  living,  in  fact,  his  phi- 
losophy— he  was  able  to  work  steadily  in  the  painful  sphere 
of  his  vocation  to  tlie  end  which  he  had  proposed  to  himself. 
If  Hamlet  is  a  reflex  of  Shakespeare's  character,  it  reflects  a 
period  ere  it  had  attained  to  its  full  development — a  stage  ip 
which  the  struggle  between  the  feeling  of  the  painful  experi* 


HAMLET.  161 

ences  of  life  and  the  intellectual  appreciation  of  them  as 
events  was  actively  going  on — in  which  his  nature  was  not  yet 
in  harmony  with  itself;  but  the  crowning  development  of  his 
philosophy  seems  to  have  been  to  look  on  all  events  with  a 
serene  and  passionless  gaze  as  inevitable  eflccts  of  antecedent 
causes — to  be  nowise  moved  by  the  vices  of  men,  and  to  see 
in  their  virtues  the  evolution  of  their  nature.  It  is  a  proba- 
ble conjecture  which  has  been  made,  therefore,  that  Hamlet 
was  sketched  out  at  an  earlier  period  of  his  life  than  that  at 
which  it  was  published,  and  that  it  was  kept  by  him  for  some 
time  and  much  modified,  the  soliloquies  and  large  generaliza- 
tions being  some  of  them  perhaps  thus  introduced,  and  the  ac- 
tion of  the  play  thereby  delayed.  Tlie  Hamlet  of  his  youth 
may  thus  have  been  alloyed  with  a  more  advanced  philoso- 
phy, and  a  character  progressively  elaborated  which  seems 
almost  overweighted  with  intellectual  preponderance.  If 
this  be  so,  it  may  account  for  the  strange  circumstance,  that 
at  the  beginning  of  the  play  Hamlet  is  represented  as  wishing 
to  go  back  to  school  at  Wittenberg,  when,  as  the  graveyard 
scene  proves,  he  must  have  been  about'thirty  years  of  age. 

The  metaphysician  who  would  gain  a  just  conception  of 
what  human  freedom  is,  could  scarce  do  better  than  study 
the  relations  of  the  human  will  in  the  events  of  life  as  these 
are  exhibited  in  the  play  of  "Hamlet."  It  represents  the 
abstract  and  brief  chronicle  of  human  life,  and,  faithfully 
holding  the  mirror  up  to  Nature,  it  teaches — better  than  all 
philosophical  disquisition  and  minute  introspective  analysis 
can — how  is  evolved  the  drama  in  which  human  will  con- 
tends with  necessity.  Struggle  as  earnestly  and  as  constantly 
as  he  may,  the  reflecting  mortal  must  feel  at  the  end  of  all, 
that  he  is  inevitably  what  he  is;  that  his  follies  and  his  vir- 
tues are  alike  his  fate ;  that  there  is  "  a  divinity  which  shapes 
his  ends,  rough-hew  them  as  he  may."  Hamlet,  the  man  of 
thought,  may  brood  over  possibilities,  speculate  on  events, 
analyze  motives,  and  purposely  delay  action;  but  in  the  end 
be  is,  equally  with  Macbeth,  the  man  of  energetic  action 


162  ESSAYS. 

whom  the  darkest  bints  of  the  witches  arouse  to  despercato 
deeds,  drawn  on  to  the  unavoidable  issue.  Mighty,  it  must 
be  allowed,  is  the  power  of  the  human  will ;  that  which,  to 
him  whose  will  is  not  developed,  isfate^  is,  to  him  who  has  a 
well-fashioned  vfHiX^  power  ;  so  much  has  been  conquered  from 
necessitv,  so  much  has  been  taken  from  the  devil's  territory, 
llie  savage  prostrates  himself,  powerless,  prayerful,  and  piti- 
able, before  the  flashing  lightning;  but  the  developed  mortal 
lays  hold  of  the  lightning  and  makes  of  it  a  very  useful  ser- 
vant :  to  the  former,  lightning  is  a  fate  against  which  will  is 
helpless ;  to  the  latter,  will  is  a  fate  against  which  lightning 
is  helpless.  What  limit,  then,  to  the  power  of  will,  when  so 
much  of  fate  is  ignorance  ?  The  limit  which  there  necessarily 
is  to  the  contents  of  the  continent,  to  the  comprehended  of 
that  which  comprehends  it.  The  unrelenting  circle  of  neces- 
sity encompasses  all :  one  may  go  his  destined  course  with 
tranquil  resignation,  and  another  may  fume,  and  fret,  and 
struggle ;  but,  willing  or  unwilling,  both  must  go.  As  the 
play  of  "  Hamlet  "  so  instructively  teaches,  notwithstanding 
all  the  ingenious  refinements  of  a  powerful  meditation,  the  hu- 
man will  is  included  within  the  larger  sphere  of  necessity  or 
natural  law.  The  cage  may  be  a  larger  or  a  smaller  one,  but 
its  bars  are  always  there.  "Where  wast  thou  when  I  laid 
the  foundations  of  the  earth  ?  Canst  thou  bind  the  sweet  in- 
fluences of  Pleiades,  or  loose  the  bands  of  Orion?  Canst 
thou  bring  forth  Mazzaroth  in  his  season?  or  canst  thou  guide 
Arcturus  with  his  sons  ?  Then  Job  answered  and  said  :  '  Be- 
hold, I  am  vile;  what  shall  I  answer  thee?  I  will  lay  mine 
hand  upon  my  mouth.'  "  ,  Well,  then,  is  it  for  him  who  learns 
his  limitation,  to  whom  the  dark  horizon  of  necessity  be- 
comes the  sunlit  circle  of  duty.^ 


EMANUEL  SWEDENBORG.* 

Few  are  tlie  readers,  and  vre  cannot  boast  to  be  of  those 
few,  who  have  been  at  the  pains  to  toil  through  the  many 
and  voluminous  writings  of  Emanuel  Swedenborg.  Indeed, 
it  would,  not  be  far  from  the  truth  to  saj  that  there  are  very 
few  persons  who  have  thought  it  worth  their  while  to  study 
him  at  all  seriously ;  he  is  commonly  accounted  a  madman, 
who  has  had  the  singular  fortune  to  persuade  certain  credu- 
lous persons  that  he  was  a  seer.  Nevertheless,  whether  luna- 
tic or  prophet,  his  character  and  his  writings  merit  a  serious 
and  unbiassed  study.  A  madness,  which  makes  its  mark 
upon  the  world,  and  counts  in  its  train  many  presumably  sane 
people  who  see  in  it  the  highest  wisdom,  cannot  justly  be  put 
aside  contemptuously  as  undeserving  a  moment's  grave 
thought.  After  all,  there  is  no  accident  in  madness;  causal- 
ity, not  casualty,  governs  its  appearance  in  the  nniverse;  and 
it  is  very  far  from  being  a  good  and  suflScient  practice  to  sim- 
ply mark  its  phenomena,  and  straightway  to  pass  on  as  if  they 
belonged,  not  to  an  order,  but  to  a  Usorder  of  events  that 
called  for  no  explanation.  It  is  certaiu  that  there  is  in  Swe- 
denborg's  revelations  of  the  spiritual  world  a  mass  of  absurd- 
ities suflScient  to  warrant  the  worst  suspicions  of  his  mental 
sanity  ;  but,  at  the  same  time,  it  is  not  less  certain  that  there 
are  scattered  in  his  writings  conceptions  of  the  highest  philo- 
sophic reach,  while  throughout  them  is  sensible  an  exalted 
tone  of  calm  moral  feeling  which  rises  in  many  places  to  a 

*  Journal  0/  Mental  Science,  No.  70. 


164  ESSAYS. 

real  moral  grandeur.  These  are  the  qualities  which  have 
gained  him  his  best  disciples,  and  they  are  qualities  too  un- 
common in  the  world  to  be  lightly  despised,  in  whatever 
company  they  may  be  exhibited.  I  proceed,  then,  to  give  some 
account  of  Swedenborg,  not  jjurposing  to  make  any  review  of 
his  multitudinous  publications,  or  any  criticism  of  the  doc- 
trines announced  in  them  with  a  matchless  self-sufficiency ; 
the  immediate  design  being  rather  to  present,  by  the  help 
mainly  of  Mr.  White's  book,  a  sketch  of  the  life  and  character 
of  the  man,  and  thus  to  obtain,  and  to  endeavor  to  convey, 
some  definite  notion  of  what  he  was,  what  he  did,  and  what 
should  be  concluded  of  him.  * 

The  first  condition  of  fairly  understanding  and  justly  ap- 
praising any  character  is  to  know  something  of  the  stock  from 
wliich  it  has  sprung.  Por  grapes  will  not  grow  on  thorns, 
nor  figs  on  thistles  ;  and,  if  the  fathers  have  eaten  sour  grapes, 
the  children's  teeth  will  not  fjiil  to  be  set  on  edge.  At  the 
end  of  all  the  most  subtile  and  elaborate  disquisitions  concern- 
ing moral  freedom  and  responsibility,  the  stern  fact  remains 
that  the  inheritance  of  a  man's  descent  weighs  on  him  through 
life  as  a  good  or  a  bad  fate.     How  can  he  escape  from  his  an- 

*  Emairael  Swedenliorg :  His  Life  and  Writings.  By  William  Wliite.  In 
two  Tolumes.  1S67. — As  the  present  purpose  is  not  to  make  any  criticism  of  Mr. 
White's  laborious  and  useful  work,  I  shall  not  again  refer  especially  to  it.  although 
making  large  use  of  the  materials  which  it  furnishes  for  a  study  of  Swedenborg ;  I 
may  once  for  all  commend  it  to  the  attention  of  those  who  are  interested  in  obtain- 
ing an  impartial  account  of  the  life  and  -works  of  the  prophet  of  the  Kew  Jerusa- 
lem. Mr.  White  does  not  appear  to  have  formed  for  himself  any  definite  theory 
with  regard  to  Swedenborg"s  pretensions,  but  is  apt,  after  having  told  something 
remarkable  of  him,  to  break  out  into  a  sort  of  Carlylian  foam  of  words,  •which, 
however,  when  it  has  subsided,  leaves  matters  much  as  they  were  Perhaps  his 
book  is  none  the  -worse  for  the  absence  of  a  special  theory,  as  we  get  a  fair  and 
unbiassed  selection  from  S-wedenborg's  conversation  and  writings,  and  a  candid 
account  of  the  events  of  his  life.  At  the  same  time  it  -will  ob-viously  be  necessary, 
sooner  or  later,  that  the  -world  come  to  a  definite  conclusion  -with  regard  to  his 
character  and  pretensions.  If  man  can  attain  to  a  gift  of  seership,  and  has  in  him 
the  faculty  of  becoming  what  S-wedenborg  claimed  to  be,  it  is  surely  time  that 
some  exact  investigation  should  be  made  of  the  nature  of  the  facultj',  and  that  -we 
should  set  oursel-^fs  diligently  to  -work  to  discover  the  track  of  so  remarkable  a 
4evelopment 


EMANUEL  SWEDENBORG.  165 

cestors  ?  Stored  up  mysteriously  in  the  nature  which  they 
transmit  to  him,  he  inherits,  not  only  the  organized  results  of 
the  acquisitions  and  evolution  of  generations  of  men,  but  he 
inherits  also  certain  individual  peculiarities  or  proclivities 
which  determine  irresistibly  the  general  aim  of  his  career. 
While  he  fancies  that  he  is  steering  himself  and  determining 
his  course  at  will,  his  character  is  his  destiny.  The  laws  of 
hereditary  transmission  are  charged  with  the  destinies  of 
mankind — of  the  race  and  of  the  individual. 

Swedenborg's  grandfather  was  a  copper-smelter,  of  pious 
disposition  and  industrious  habits,  who  had  the  fortune  to 
become  rich  through  a  lucky  mining  venture.  He  had  a 
large  family,  which  he  counted  a  blessing ;  for  he  was  in  the 
habit  of  saying  after  dinner,  with  a  humility  not  perhaps  en- 
tirely devoid  of  ostentation :  "  Thank  you,  my  children,  for 
dinner  I  I  have  dined  with  you,  and  not  you  with  me.  God 
has  given  me  food  for  your  sake."  His  son  Jasper,  the 
father  of  Emanuel  Swedenborg,  exhibiting  in  early  youth  a 
great  love  of  books  and  a  pleasure  in  playing  at  preaching, 
was  educated  for  the  ministry,  in  which,  by  zealous  energy 
and  no  small  worldly  shrewdness,  he  succeeded  so  well  that 
he  ultimately  rose  to  be  Bishop  of  Skara.  He  was  a  bustling, 
energetic,  turbulently  self-conscious  man,  earnest  and  active 
in  the  work  of  his  ministry,  and  a  favorite  of  the  king, 
Charles  XI.  Of  a  reforming  temper  and  an  aggressive  char- 
acter, with  strongly-pronounced  evangelical  tendencies,  by 
no  means  wanting  in  self-confidence  or  self-assertion,  and 
indefatigable  in  the  prosecution  of  wliat  he  tliought  to  be  his 
duties,  he  did  not  fail  to  make  enemies  among  those  of  his 
brethren  who  were  unwilling  to  have  the  sleepy  routine  of 
their  lives  disturbed ;  but  by  the  energy  of  his  character  and 
the  favor  of  the  king  he  held  his  own  successfully.  "  I  can 
scarcely  believe,"  he  says,  "  that  anybody  in  Sweden  has 
written  so  much  as  I  have  done ;  since,  I  think,  ten  carts 
would  scarcely  carry  away  what  I  have  written  and  printed 
at  my  own  expense,  yet  there  is  as  much,  verily,  there  is 
8 


166  ESSAYS. 

nearly  as  much,  not  printed."  Certainly  he  was  not  less 
keenly  careful  of  the  things  that  concerned  his  temporal 
well-being  than  of  those  that  belonged  to  his  eternal  welfare ; 
and,  deeming  himself  a  faithful  and  favored  servant  of  the 
Lord,  he  easily  traced  in  all  the  steps  of  his  advancement  the 
recompensing  hand  of  his  Divine  Master.  "  It  is  incredible 
and  indescribable,"  he  exclaims,  when  made  Dean  of  Upsala, 
"  what  consolation  and  peace  are  felt  by  the  servants  of  the 
Lord  when  raised  to  a  high  and  holy  calling ;  and  contrari- 
wise how  down-hearted  they  must  be  who  experience  no 
such  elevation."  "Without  doing  any  injustice  to  the  zealous 
bishop,  we  may  suppose  that  certain  worldly  advantages  con- 
tributed their  measure  to  the  consolation  which  he  felt  in 
being  raised  to  so  high  and  holy  a  calling.  By  the  death  of 
his  wife  he  was  left  a  widower  with  eight  children,  the  eldest 
of  them  not  twelve  years  old ;  but  he  soon  took  to  himself 
a  second  wife,  distinguished  for  her  "piety,  meekness,  lib- 
erality to  the  poor,"  and  who  was  moreover  "  well-off,  good- 
looking,  a  thrifty  housewife,  and  had  no  family."  She  died, 
and  within  a  year  after  her  death  he  married  for  the  third 
time,  being  then  in  his  sixty-seventh  year.  "My  circum- 
stances and  my  extensive  household  required  a  faithful  com- 
panion, whom  God  gave  me  in  Christina  x\rhusia."  In  his 
choice  of  wives,  as  in  other  matters,  he  evinced  his  shrewd 
and  practical  character,  acting  apparently  in  accordance  with 
the  advice  which  he  gives  in  a  letter  to  his  youngest  son, 
whom  he  was  urging  to  apply  himself  to  work  :  "  You  write 
well,  you  reckon  well,  and,  thank  God,  you  are  not  married. 
See  that  you  get  a  good  wife,  and  something  with  Tier,  Pray 
God  to  lead  you  in  his  holy  way."  The  mixture  of  piety  and 
worldly  wisdom  is  very  characteristic  of  the  bishop. 

His  sublime  self-assurance  was  a  most  striking  feature 
in  his  character.  Assuredly  he  never  lacked  advancement 
either  for  himself  or  his  family  through  any  modest  distrust 
of  his  worth  or  any  hesitation  to  urge  his  claims;  he  was, 
mdeed,  most  pertinacious  in  his  petitions  to  the  king,  in  sea- 


EMANUEL  SWEDENBORG.  167 

BCD  nnd  out  of  season;  and,  if  his  prajer  was  left  unnoticed, 
another  was  sure  to  follow  in  a  short  time,  so  that  the  only 
way  of  getting  rid  of  his  importunities  was  to  grant  some- 
thing of  what  he  asked.  It  is  only  just  to  him  to  add,  how- 
ever, that  he  was  not  less  urgent  in  his  petitions  for  the  ad- 
vantage of  the  Church  than  he  was  in  his  petitions  for  hi8 
own  advantage.  So  great  was  the  faith  which  he  had  in 
himself  and  in  the  efficacy  of  his  prayers  that  he  was  per- 
suaded that  he  actually  worked  miraculous  cures  of  disease, 
"  There  was,"  he  says,  "  brought  to  me  at  Starbo  a  maid- 
servant named  Kerstin,  possessed  with  devils  in  mind  and 
body.  I  caused  her  to  kneel  down  with  me  and  pray,  and 
then  I  read  over  her,  and  she  arose  well  and  hearty  and  quite 
delivered."  To  this  same  seemingly  hysterical  servant,  who 
on  one  occasion  lay  senseless  and  half  suffocated,  he  called  in 
a  loud  voice,  "  Wake  up,  and  arise  in  the  name  of  Jesus 
Christ ! "  Immediately  she  recovered,  got  up,  and  com- 
menced to  talk.  Another  of  his  servants  had  a  dreadful  pain 
in  her  elbow,  which  nothing  relieved,  so  that  for  days  and 
nights  she  went  about  moaning  without  rest  or  sleep.  "  At 
midnight  she  came  to  the  room  where  I  was  lying  asleep 
with  my  beloved  wife,  and  prayed  that  I  would  for  the  sake 
of  Christ  take  away  her  pain,  or  she  must  go  and  kill  her- 
self. I  rose,  touched  her  arm,  and  commanded  the  pain  in 
the  name  of  Jesus  Christ  to  depart,  and  in  a  moment  the  one 
arm  was  as  well  as  the  other.  Glory  to  God  alone  !  "  Not 
a  doubt  seems  to  have  ever  ruffled  the  serenity  of  his  self- 
complacency  ;  he  had  the  comfortable  conviction,  which  men 
of  his  narrow  and  intense  type  of  mind  sometimes  get,  that 
in  all  his  doings  the  Lord  was  on  his  side.  "When  he  was 
nearly  eighty  years  of  age  he  composed  his  autobiography, 
making  with  his  own  hand  six  copies  of  it,  and  dedicating 
them ''to  my  children  and  posterity  as  an  example  how  to 
conduct  themselves  after  my  death."  The  grave  should  not 
quench  his  shining  light;  he  was  resolved,  being  dead,  yet  to 
speak.     Of  his  autobiograpliy  or  of  any  other  of  his  cart-load.-? 


1G8  ESSAYS. 

of  writings  it  is  not  probable  tbat  posterity  will  ever  care  to 
read  much ;  the  good  which  the  restless  and  indefatigable 
bishop  conferred  on  the  world  was  done  by  his  energetic  and 
Qsefiil  life;  he  worked  well  and  wisely  for  his  generation,  and 
his  generation  liberally  rewarded  him. 

Such,  then,  was  Bishop  Swedenborg,  whose  second  son, 
Emanuel,  was  born  on  the  29th  of  January,  1688,  and  was  so 
named  that  he  might  be  "thereby  reminded  continually  of 
the  nearness  of  God."  Of  his  mother  we  know  nothing 
more  than  what  the  bishop  writes  of  her :  "Although  she 
was  the  daughter  of  an  assessor,  and  the  wife  of  a  rector  in 
Upsala,  and  of  a  wealthy  family,  she  never  dressed  extrava- 
gantly. As  every  woman  in  those  days  wore  a  sinful  and 
troublesome  fontange  or  top-knot,  she  was  obliged  to  do  as 
others  did  and  wear  it ;  but  hearing  that  a  cow  in  the  island 
of  Gothland  had,  with  great  labor  and  pitiable  bellowing, 
brought  forth  a  calf  with  a  top-knot,  she  took  her  own  and 
her  girl's  hoods  and  threw  them  all  into  the  fire ;  and  she 
made  a  vow  that  she  and  her  daughters,  as  long  as  they 
■were  under  her  authority,  should  never  more  put  such  things 
on  their  heads." 

The  story,  notwithstanding  the  superstition  which  it 
discovers,  indicates  strong  self-reliance  and  no  little  force 
of  character,  but  is  hardly  sufficient  to  warrant  any  special 
conclusions.  As,  however,  Swedenborg's  intellect  was  un- 
doubtedly of  a  higher  order  than  his  father's,  by  nature  far 
more  subtile,  comprehensive,  and  powerful,  it  is  probable  that 
he  owed  much  to  his  mother's  stock,  as  is  so  often  the  case 
with  men  of  distinction.  It  is  a  small  matter  for  any  one  to 
have  had  a  clever  father  if  he  has  had  a  foolish  mother.  The 
transmission  of  his  father's  qualities  of  character  certainly 
could  not  have  been  an  unmixed  benefit,  some  of  them  hav- 
ing been  evidently  already  strained  as  far  as  was  consistent 
with  the  maintenance  of  a  sound  cquiUbrium.  A  man  whose 
intellect  moved  in  so  narrow  a  current,  who  was  possessed 
with  such  wonderful  self-assurance,  and  who  sincerely  be- 


EMANUEL   SWEDENBORG.  169 

lieved  that  lie  worked  miraculous  cures,  was  not  unlikely  to 
have  a  son  in  whom  the  exaggeration  of  these  characters 
passed  the  limits  of  sanity.  At  any  rate  we  may  helieve  that 
the  busy  bishop  had  but  little  reserve  power  to  communicate 
to  his  children,  having  needed  and  used  all  the  force  which 
he  had  for  the  manifold  projects  and  works  of  his  own  active 
and  demonstrative  life ;  he  put  forth  too  many  blossoms  him- 
self to  leave  much  force  in  his  stock  available  for  the  next 
generation.  To  the  quiet,  self-reliant,  and  self-denying  en- 
ergy of  his  mother's  character  it  may  well  be  that  Sweden- 
borg  was  more  indebted  than  to  the  too  self-conscious  activity 
of  his  father. 

Of  the  events  of  his  childhood  and  early  youth  nothing 
more  is  known  than  what  he  himself,  writing  in  his  old  age, 
tells  us : 

"  From  my  fourth  to  my  tenth  year,  my  thoughts  were  constantly 
engrossed  in  reflecting  on  God,  on  salvation,  and  on  the  spiritual 
affections  of  man.  I  often  revealed  things  in  my  discourse  which 
filled  my  parents  with  astonishment,  and  made  them  declare  at  times 
that  certainly  the  angels  spoke  through  my  mouth. 

"  From  my  sixth  to  my  twelfth  year,  it  was  my  greatest  delight  to 
converse  with  the  clergy  concerning  faith,  to  whom  I  observed  that 
'  charity  or  love  is  the  life  of  faith'  " — 

and  other  wonderfully  precocious  things. 

We  shall  be  the  more  apt  to  believe  that  he  did  discourse 
in  that  strange  way,  if  we  bear  in  mind  that  he  was  bred, 
and  lived,  and  moved  in  an  atmosphere  of  religious  talk  and 
theological  discussion,  where  Providential  interferences  were 
not  wanting.  The  endless  praying,  the  catechizing,  the  ser- 
monizing of  his  father,  and  the  parental  admiration  which  his 
own  childish  discourse  excited,  would  tend  to  engender  a 
prococity  in  religious  matters,  which  failed  not  to  bear  its 
natural  fruits  in  his  subsequent  life.  From  this  brief  glimpse 
into  the  nature  of  his  early  training,  we  perceive  suflScient 
reason  to  conclude  that  the  extreme  self-confidence  which  he 
inherited  from  his  father  met  with  a  fostering  applause  rather 


170  ESSAYS. 

than  a  prudent  discouragement.  Unquestionably,  if  at  that 
early  age  his  thoughts  were  constantly  engrossed  in  reflections 
on  God,  and  his  mouth  had  become  an  organ  through  which 
angels  spoke,  both  his  thoughts  and  his  mouth  might  have 
been  much  better  employed. 

A  notable  peculiarity  which  he  asserts  to  have  distin- 
guished him  in  his  early  years,  and  made  him  unlike  other 
.children,  was  a  power  of  almost  suspending  his  breathing; 
when  deeply  absorbed  in  prayer,  he  hardly  seemed  to  b^-eathe 
at  all.  Another  remarkable  characteristic  of  the  wonderful 
child  I  On  it  he  subsequently  founded  important  theories 
concerning  respiration,  and  his  disciples  look  upon  it  as 
connected  with  the  power  which  he  claimed  to  have  of  en- 
tering the  spirit-world  while  still  in  the  flesh.  A  more 
commonplace  explanation,  however,  may  easily  suggest  itself. 
Physicians  who  are  accustomed  to  be  consulted  about  chil- 
dren of  nervous  disposition,  predisposed  to  epilepsy  or  insan- 
ity, will  call  to  mind  instances  in  which  the  little  beings  have 
fallen  into  trances  or  ecstasies,  and  spoken  in  voices  seeming- 
ly not  their  own.  On  the  one  hand,  these  seizures  pass  by 
intermediate  steps  into  attacks  of  chorea,  and,  on  the  other 
hand,  they  may  alternate  with  true  epileptic  fits,  or  pass 
gradually  into  them.  So  far  from  being  conditions  to  admire, 
they  are  of  dangerous  omen,  and  the  parent  whose  child  is  so 
afflicted,  whether  it  be  by  airs  from  heaven  or  blasts  from 
hell,  would  do  well  to  take  him  to  some  physician,  in  order 
to  have  the  angels  or  devils  exorcised  by  medical  means.  If 
Swedenborg's  youthful  ecstasies,  as  seems  not  improbable, 
were  of  this  character,  his  father,  who  thought  his  hysterical 
maid-servent  to  be  possessed  with  "  devils  in  mind  and  body," 
was  not  likely  to  interpret  them  rightly;  on  the  contrary, 
like  Mohammed's  epileptic  fits,  they  would  be  counted  visita- 
tions of  the  Deity. 

Thus  much,  and  it  is  unfortunately  not  much,  concerning 
Swedenborg's  parentage,  childhood,  and  early  training.  Scan- 
ty as  the  account  is,  we  may  see  reason  to  trace  in  some  eventai 


EMANUEL  SWEDENBORG.  171 

of  his  life  the  effects  of  the  influences  then  exerted.  I  go  on 
now  to  mention  briefly  what  is  known  of  his  youth  and  early 
manhood.  He  was  educated  at  the  University  of  Upsala, 
where  he  took  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Philosophy  at  the  age 
of  twenty-one.  Afterward  he  travelled  abroad  in  order  to 
complete  his  studies,  remaining  some  time  in  London,  Paris, 
and  Hamburg,  wherever  he  went  evincing  an  earnest  thirst 
for  knowledge,  and  seeking  and  obtaining  the  acquaintance 
of  meft  eminent  in  mathematics,  astronomy,  and  mechanics. 
Eeturning  from  his  travels,  he  took  up  his  abode  for  some 
years  in  the  little  sea-side  university  town  of  Griefsvalde, 
where  he  certainly  was  not  idle.  In  a  letter  to  his  brother- 
in-law,  he  specifies  as  many  as  fourteen  wonderful  mechani- 
cal inventions  on  which  he  was  engaged.  Among  these 
were: 

Tlie  construction  of  a  sort  of  ship  in  which  a  man  may  go 
below  the  surface  of  the  sea,  and  do  great  damage  to  the 
fleet  of  an  enemy. 

A  machine,  driven  by  fire,  for  pumping  water,  and  lifting 
at  forges  where  the  water  has  no  fall. 

A  new  construction  of  air-guns,  by  which  a  thousand 
balls  may  be  discharged  through  one  tube  in  one  moment. 

SchiograpMa  universalis^  or  a  mechanical  method  of  de- 
lineating houses  of  every  kind,  and  on  any  surface,  by  means 
of  fire. 

A  mechanical  chariot  containing  all  kinds  of  tools,  which 
are  set  in  action  by  tlie  movements  of  the  horses. 

A  flying  chariot,  or  the  possibility  of  floating  in  the  air 
and  moving  through  it. 

The  number  of  projects  on  which  he  was  engaged  shows 
how  great  was  his  industry,  and  how  fertile  his  ingenuity, 
while  the  character  of  them  proves  that  there  was  no  hinder- 
ance  to  a  habit  of  ambitious  speculation  in  any  modest  dis- 
trust of  his  own  powers.  It  is  evident,  too,  that  at  this  period 
of  his  life  his  speculations  were  directed  to  practical  ends ; 


172  ESSAYS. 

his  daring  flights  were  made  from  a  basis  of  scientific  facts, 
and  aimed  at  some  directly  useful  result ;  he  was  not  yet,  at 
any  rate,  a  mere  dreamer  of  inflated  dreams.  What,  how- 
ever, is  particularly  significant  is  the  entire  absence  of  self- 
restraint  in  these  intellectual  projects:  there  is  no  problem 
which  he  does  not  hold  to  be  penetrable,  and  penetrable  by 
him.  To  what  end  must  such  a  lofty  and  high-aspiring  spirit 
inevitably  come  unless  it  learn  by  sad  experience  soberly  to 
define  its  aims  and  definitely  to  work  for  them  ?  Icarns-like 
in  its  aspiring  ambition,  it  cannot  but  be  Icarus-like  in  its 
disastrous  fall. 

In  1715,  when  he  was  twenty-seven  years  old,  he  returned 
home,  and  received  before  long  from  the  king,  in  compliance 
with  his  father's  pertinacious  prayers,  the  appointment  of  as- 
sessor in  the  Eoyal  School  of  Mines,  where,  as  assistant  to 
Polhem,  an  eminent  engineer,  he  was  usefully  em^Dloyed  in 
the  practical  work  of  his  oflBce.  At  the  same  time  he  did 
not  abandon  his  ingenious  and  abstruse  speculations  ;  the  re- 
sults of  his  labors  being  published  in  numerous  pamphlets, 
the  titles  of  some  of  which  wiU  serve  to  indicate  the  nature 
of  his  studies.  One  is  entitled  "Attempts  to  find  the  Longi- 
tude by  means  of  the  Moon  ;  "  another,  "  On  the  Level  of  the 
Sea  and  the  Great  Tides  of  the  Ancient  World ;  "  another, 
"  A  Proposal  for  the  Division  of  Money  and  Measures  so  as 
to  facilitate  Calculation  and  Fractions."  His  brother-in-law 
Benzelius  having  discouraged  this  last  scheme  as  impractic- 
able and  advised  him  to  relinquish  it,  he  replies  bravely  : 

*'Itis  a  little  discouraging  to  be  dissuaded  thus.  For  myself,  I 
desire  all  possible  novelties,  ay,  a  novelty  for  every  day  in  the  year, 
provided  the  world  will  be  pleased  with  them.  In  every  age  there's 
an  abundance  of  persons  who  follow  the  beaten  track,  and  remain  in 
the  old  way  ;  but  perhaps  there  are  only  from  six  to  ten  in  a  century 
who  bring  forward  new  things  founded  on  argument  and  reason." 

^  A  novelty  for  every  day  in  the  year  by  all  means,  provided 
it  be  a  novelty  which  has  some  solidity  of  foundation  and  a 
reasonable  chance  of  bearing  the  test  of  verification.    But 


EMANUEL  SWEDENBORG.  1Y3 

to  pursue  novelties  for  novelty's  sake,  to  disdain  tlie  beaten 
track  merely  because  it  is  beaten,  and  to  leap  out  of  it,  for 
the  purpose  of  showing  independence— these  are  things 
which  are  likely  in  no  long  time  to  bring  a  man  to  considerable 
intellectual  grief.  A  habit  of  excogitating  vague  and  hypo- 
thetical plausibilities  is  not  difl&cult  of  acquirement,  but  is 
very  detrimental  to  exact  observation  and  sound  reasoning. 
There  is  commonly  greater  profit,  though  attended  with 
more  pains  and  less  pleasure,  in  scrutinizing  and  scrupulously 
testing  one  good  theory  than  in  putting  forth  a  hundred  empty 
hypotheses;  self-restraint  being  a  far  higher  energy  than  self- 
abandonment.  It  is  plain  that  Swedenborg  had,  to  a  de- 
gree which  few  persons  have  had,  the  power  of  seizing  dis- 
tant analogies,  but  it  is  equally  plain  that  he  put  no  restraint 
on  the  exercise  of  this  faculty.  No  wonder  that  the  world, 
unapt  to  welcome  warmly  any  new  doctrine,  apt  indeed  to 
shut  the  door  resolutely  in  its  face,  did  not  receive  his  won- 
derful discoveries  with  the  gratitude  and  interest  which  he 
imagined  to  be  their  due,  but,  on  the  contrary,  went  on  in  its 
prosaic  way  serenely  disregardful  of  them. 

Writing  to  Benzelius,  he  complains  that  his  brother-in- 
law  has  estranged  his  dear  father's  and  mother's  affections 
from  him,  and  that  his  speculations  and  inventions  find  no 
patronage  in  Sweden. 

"  Should  I  be  able  to  collect  the  necessary  means,  I  have  made 
up  my  mind  to  go  abroad  and  seek  my  fortune  in  mining.  He  must 
indeed  be  a  fool,  who  is  loose  and  iiTesolute,  who  sees  his  place 
abroad,  yet  remains  in  obscurity  and  wretchedness  at  home,  where 
the  furies.  Envy  and  Pluto,  have  taken  up  their  abode,  and  dispose 
of  all  rewards,  where  all  the  trouble  I  have  taken  is  rewarded  with 
Buch  shabbiness !  " 

Again : 

*'  I  have  taken  a  little  leisure  this  summer  to  put  a  few  things  on 
paper,  which  I  think  will  be  my  last  productions,  for  speculations 
and  inventions  like  mine  find  no  patronage  nor  bread  in  Sweden,  and 
are  considered  by  a  number  of  political  blockheads  as  a  sort  of 
8chool-boy  exercise,  which  ought  to  stand  quite  in  the  background, 
while  their  finesse  and  intrigues  step  forward." 


174  ESSAYS. 

In  what  way  his  father's  affections  had  shown  theraselvea 
estranged  we  do  not  learn.  Perhaps  the  bustling  bishop  had 
become  impatient  of  his  son's  multitudinous  speculations,  and 
was  urging  him  to  some  more  practical  work ;  for  he  was  not 
apt  to  look  complacently  on  any  neglect  of  the  things  that 
lead  to  worldly  prosperity.  To  another  of  his  sons  he  writes 
on  one  occasion  :  "  See  that  you  find  some  occupation  where 
you  are.  It  is  no  use  to  be  in  Sweden  to  fritter  away  your 
best  days  in  idleness." 

Notwithstanding  the  little  favor  which  his  inventions  met 
with,  Swedenborg  did  not  carry  into  effect  the  resolution  to 
abandon  his  ungrateful  country ;  he  contented  himself  with  a 
tour  of  fifteen  months  on  the  Continent,  visiting  Amsterdam, 
Leipsic,  Liege,  and  Cologne.  During  this  period  he  contin- 
ued to  publish  numerous  pamphlets,  one  of  which  was  on 
"  Xew  Attempts  to  explain  the  Phenomena  of  Physics  and 
Chemistry  by  Geometry,"  and  another  on  "A  is'ew  Method 
of  finding  the  Longitude  of  Places  on  Land  or  at  Sea  by  Lu- 
nar Observations."  Observing  as  he  travelled,  and  reflecting 
on  what  he  observed,  he  at  once  published  the  fancies  and 
speculations  with  which  his  prolific  mind  teemed;  and  so 
serene  was  his  self-assarance  that  he  never  seems  to  have 
doubted  his  capacity  to  deal  off-hand  with  the  most  difficult 
subjects.  Swiftly  and  recklessly  his  imagination  passed  to 
its  conclusions  through  faint  gleams  of  ?jialogies,  leaving  de- 
liberation and  verification  hopelessly  in  the  rear,  if  they  were 
ever  thought  of  at  all.  He  returned  to  Sweden  in  1722,  and 
during  the  next  twelve  years— from  his  thirty-fourth  to  his 
forty-sixth  year — he  preserved  an  unaccustomed  silence,  for 
he  published  nothing.  He  was,  however,  far  from  idle ;  the 
time  which  was  not  occupied  in  the  daties  of  his  assessorship 
being  devoted  to  study  and  to  the  composition  of  three  big 
folios — the  "Principia,"  containing  an  account  of  the  creation 
of  matter,  and  the  "  Opera  Philosophica  et  Mineralia,"  These 
were  published  at  Leipsic  in  1734. 

In  his  "Principia"  he  professes  to  investigate  the  file* 


EMANUEL  SWEDENBORG.  175 

mental  Kingdom,  the  subtile  and  intangible  particles  of  which, 
each  having  its  own  powers  of  elasticity  and  motion,  combine, 
as  he  assumes,  to  constitute  an  element.  But  how  does  he  get 
at  any  knowledge  of  these  subtile  particles  which  he  postu- 
lates? By  reasoning  from  analogy.  The  method  of  Nature, 
he  says,  is  everywhere  the  same  ;  Nature  is  similar  to  herself. 
in  Suns  and  Planets  as  in  Particles ;  size  makes  no  difference ; 
there  is  the  same  ratio  between  1,000,000  and  5,000,000 
as  there  is  between  -0,000,001  and  '0,000,005  ;  what  is  true 
of  the  least  is  true  of  the  greatest.  Now,  as  the  whole 
world  is  mechanical,  these  intangible  particles  must  be  so 
also ;  visible  matter  is  geometrical  as  to  figure,  mechanical 
as  to  motion;  therefore  invisible  matter  must  be  so  also. 
Then  he  goes  on  to  argue  in  an  elaborate  way  that  every 
thing  in  Nature  originated  in  a  point— just  as  the  origin 
of  lines  and  forms  in  geometry  is  in  points — itself  somehow 
produced  immediately  from  the  Infinite,  and  that  from  a 
congress  of  points  the  First  Finite  was  produced ;  from  an 
aggregation  of  First  Finites  a  grosser  order  of  Second  Finites  ; 
from  these  an  order  of  Third  Finites ;  and  so  on  until  the 
earth  and  all  that  therein  is  was  produced.  How  he  con- 
trives to  get  his  point  produced  from  the  Infinite,  and  then 
to  start  it  on  such  a  wonderful  career,  it  is  impossible  to  ex- 
plain ;  his  disciples,  who  discover  in  some  parts  of  these  bar- 
ren speculations  the  anticipations  of  important  scientific  dis- 
coveries, and  perceive  everywhere  the  marks  of  a  super- 
human philosophic  insight,  do  not  furnish  an  intelligible  in- 
terpretation. This  is  not  much  to  be  wondered  at,  seeing 
that  the  master  himself,  when  he  was  subsequently  admitted 
to  the  Spiritual  World,  discovered  them  to  be  vain  and  idle 
fancies.  What  may  justly  cause  surprise  and  regret,  how- 
ever, is  that  his  followers  should  insist  on  reading  a  wonder- 
ful meaning  into  what  he  so  entirely  discarded,  and  persist 
in  vaguely  extolling,  without  definitely  setting  forth,  the 
science  which  they  find  so  marvellous.  The  fact  which  it 
chiefly  concerns  us  here  to  note  is  his  infinite  self-sufficiency ; 


176  ESSAYS. 

there  is  no  arrogant  self-assertion,  no  offensive  conceit,  but  a 
serene  and  boundless  self-assurance,  the  like  of  \\-hicb  is 
Beldora  met  with  outside  the  walls  of  an  asylum,  but  is  net 
seldom  exhibited  by  the  mcnomaniac  who  constructs  elabo- 
rate theories  of  the  universe  out  of  the  troubled  depths  of  his 
consciousness.  When  a  man  plants  himself  on  such  a  plat- 
form, he  is  certainly  likely,  "whether  owing  to  the  fault  or 
discernment  of  his  contemporaries,  to  inhabit  his  intellectual 
estate  unquestioned,  unlimited,  uncontradicted,  and  alone."  * 

The  "  Philosophical  and  Mineral  Works  "  contain  a  very 
full  description  of  the  practical  details  of  mining  in  different 
parts  of  the  world ;  they  testify  how  well  he  had  observed, 
and  how  hard  he  had  studied,  during  his  travels.  He  gives 
them  the  title  of  "  Philosophical  "  advisedly,  because  it  was 
his  aim  to  wed  philosophy  to  science,  and  to  rise  by  steps 
from  the  investigation  of  the  mineral  to  that  of  the  organic 
kingdom,  and  through  this  to  the  study  of  man,  and  of  human 
mind  as  the  crowning  achievement  of  organization. 

"  Man  did  not  begin  to  exist  until  the  kingdoms  of  Nature  were  com 
pleted,  and  then  the  world  of  Nature  concentrated  itself  in  him  at  his 
creation.  Thus  in  man,  as  in  a  microcosm,  the  whole  universe  may 
be  contemplated  from  the  beginning  to  the  end,  from  first  to  last." 

There  is  nothing  original  in  this  conception,  which  is 
indeed  as  old  as  thought ;  but,  if  we  err  not,  the  conception 
of  the  method  by  which  Swedenborg  resolved  to  ascend  step 
by  step  from  the  knowledge  of  the  lowest  forms  of  matter  to 
the  knowledge  of  its  highest  forms,  until  at  last  he  penetrated 
into  the  secret  chamber  of  that  "  noblest  organization  in 
which  the  soul  is  clad,"  was  at  that  time  as  original  as  it  was 
profoundly  scientific.  The  grand  end  which  he  proposed  to 
himself  was  the  discovery  of  the  soul;  to  the  investigation 
of  its  nature  he  would  mount  through  the  different  organs 
and  functions  of  the  body,  using  his  knowledge  of  them  as  a 
ladder  by  which  to  ascend  into  "  her  secret  chambers,  open 

♦  Dr.  Garth  Wilkinson's  "Biography  of  Swedenborg:,"'  p.  2T. 


EMANUEL  SWEDENBORG.  177 

all  the  doors  that  lead  to  her,  and  at  length  contemplate  the 
soul  herself."  How  different  in  this  regard  from  learned 
metaphysicians,  who  deem  an  entire  ignorance  of  the  body 
no  bar  to  the  most  dogmatic  disquisition  concerning  mind  I 
^7ho  can  withhold  admiration  of  the  noble  ambition  of  his 
design,  of  the  resolute  determination  to  undertake  so  vast  a 
work,  of  the  imflinching  industry  with  which  he  set  himself 
to  execute  it?  It  is  meet  that  criticism  stand  respectfully 
aside  for  a  moment,  and  do  free  homage  to  the  philosophic 
genius  of  the  mind  which  was  capable  at  that  time  of  con- 
ceiving so  truly  scientific  a  method,  and  of  the  resolution  to 
accomplish  its  application. 

In  pursuance  of  his  great  scheme  of  penetrating  from  the 
very  cradle  to  the  maturity  of  ITature,  he  determined  to 
undertake  earnestly  the  study  of  anatomy  and  physiology, 
having  inherited  at  his  father's  death,  which  took  place  in 
1735,  a  suflScient  fortune  to  enable  him  to  follow  the  bent  of 
his  inclinations.  Accordingly,  he  started  once  more  for  a 
tour  on  the  Continent,  visiting  Brussels,  Paris,  Turin,  Milan, 
Venice,  and  Rome,  occupying  himself  in  the  study  of  anatomy, 
and  amusing  himself  with  visiting  the  theatres  and  operas, 
and  seeing  what  was  worth  seeing  in  the  different  towns. 
For  he  was  no  ascetic,  though  he  lived  a  solitary  life :  he 
was  evidently  not  insensible  to  certain  lusts  of  the  flesh,  nor 
sparing  of  the  gratification  of  them ;  we  learn  incidentally 
that  in  Italy,  though  he  was  now  fifty-two  years  old,  he  kept 
a  mistress,  as  indeed  he  had  formerly  done  in  Sweden.  At  a 
later  period  of  his  life  we  find  him  telling  in  his  Diary  how 
he  wondered  much  "that  I  had  no  desire  for  women,  as  I 
had  had  all  through  my  life,"  and  again,  "How  my  inclina- 
tion for  women,  which  had  been  my  strongest  passion,  sud- 
denly ceased."  Very  meagre,  however,  are  the  indications 
of  the  way  in  which  he  spent  his  time  ;  it  would  seem  that 
he  visited  the  dissecting-rooms,  if  he  did  not  himself  dissect; 
he  certainly  made  himself  acquainted  with  the  works  of  the 
best  anatomists,  transcribing  from  their  pages  the  descrip- 


178  ESSAYS. 

tions  suited  to  his  purposes ;  and  in  one  way  or  another 
seven  years  were  passed  by  him  in  travelling  about  and  in 
physiological  studies. 

In  1741  he  gave  to  the  world  the  results  of  his  studies 
and  reflections  in  anatomy  by  publishing  at  Amsterdam  his 
"  Economy  of  the  Animal  Kingdom,"  which  was  followed 
in  1744  by  his  "Animal  Kingdom."  These  works  were  the 
continuance  of  his  great  design  in  the  region  of  organization. 
In  them  he  made  use  of  the  writings  of  the  best  anatomists, 
selecting  theii-  descriptions  as  the  basis  of  facts  on  which  he 
founded  his  reflections. 

"  Here  and  there  I  have  taken  the  liberty  of  throwing  in  the  re- 
sults of  my  experience,  but  this  only  sparingly  ;  for,  on  deeply  con- 
sidering the  matter,  I  deemed  it  better  to  make  use  of  the  facts  sup- 
plied by  others.  Indeed,  there  are  some  that  seem  born  for  experi- 
mental observation,  and  endowed  with  a  sharper  insight  tlian  others, 
as  if  they  possessed  naturally  a  finer  acumen  ;  such  as  Eustachius, 
Ruysch,  Leeuwenhoek,  Lancisi,  etc.  There  are  others,  again,  who 
enjoy  a  natural  faculty  for  contemplating  facts  already  discovered, 
and  eliciting  their  causes.  Both  are  peculiar  gifts,  and  are  seldom 
united  in  the  same  person.  Besides,  I  found  when  intently  occupied 
in  exploring  the  secrets  of  the  human  body,  that  as  soon  as  I  discov- 
ered any  thing  that  had  not  been  observed  before,  I  began  (seduced 
probably  by  self-love)  to  grow  blind  to  the  most  acute  lucubrations 
and  researches  of  others,  and  to  originate  a  whole  series  of  inductive 
arguments  from  my  particular  discovery  alone ;  and  consequently  to 
be  incapacitated  to  view  and  comprehend,  as  accurately  as  the  subject 
required,  the  idea  '  of  universals  in  individuals,  and  of  individuals 
under  universals.'  I  therefore  laid  aside  my  instruments.,  and,  re- 
straining my  desire  for  making  observations,  determined  rather  to 
rely  on  the  researches  of  others  than  to  trust  to  my  own." 

Still  he  was  not  ignorant  of  the  dangers  which  beset 
ratiocination  when  divorced  from  experience. 

"  To  a  knowledge  of  the  causes  of  things  nothing  but  experience 
can  guide  us  ;  for,  when  the  mind,  with  all  the  speculative  force  which 
belongs  to  it,  is  left  to  rove  about  without  this  guide,  how  prone  it  is 
to  fall  into  error,  yea  into  errors  and  errors  of  errors  !  How  futile  it 
is  after  this,  or  at  any  rate  how  precarious,  to  seek  confirmation  and 


EMANUEL   SWEDENBORG.  179 

support  from  experience !  "We  are  not  to  deduce  experience  from 
assumed  principles,  but  to  deduce  principles  themselves  from  expe- 
rience ;  for  in  truth  we  are  surrounded  with  illusive  and  fallacious 
lights,  and  are  the  more  likely  to  fall  because  our  very  darkness  coun- 
terfeits the  day.  When  we  are  carried  away  by  ratiocination  alone, 
we  are  somewhat  like  blindfolded  children  in  their  play,  who, 
though  they  imagine  they  are  walking  straightforward,  yet  when 
their  eyes  are  unbound,  plainly  perceive  that  they  have  been  follow- 
ing some  roundabout  path,  which,  if  pursued,  must  have  led  them 
to  the  place  the  very  opposite  to  the  one  intended." 

Wise  words!  but  how  far  Swedenborg  was  from  realizing 
them  in  practice,  the  perusal  of  a  single  page  of  his  treatise 
will  suffice  to  prove.  His  nature  was  too  strongly  bent  on 
speculation  to  allow  him  to  brook  any  restraint  on  the  flights 
of  his  restless  and  aspiring  intellect,  and,  when  experience 
left  gaps,  his  imagination  never  hesitated  to  fill  them  up  with 
theories;  the  very  facts,  indeed,  which  he  professes  to  record 
are  frequently  so  tinged  with  his  own  hypotheses  as  to  be 
made  unreliable,  while  they  are  almost  always  too  weak  to 
bear  the  large  conclusions  which  he  bases  upon  them.  One 
thing,  however,  which  distinguishes  him  prominently  from 
most,  if  not  all,  of  those  who  have  written  upon  anatomy  and 
physiology,  and  which  is  indeed  the  outcome  of  his  large  and 
philosophic  intellect,  is  the  clear  and  excellent  conception 
which  he  evinces  of  the  organism  as  a  living  social  unity, 
formed  by  the  integration  of  manifold  orderly-disposed  parts: 
he  does  not  treat  of  the  body  as  if  it  were  a  mere  mechanism 
or  carcass  of  muscle,  bone,  and  nerve,  to  be  carefully  observed, 
dissected,  and  described  or  figured ;  nor  does  he  deal  with 
the  functions  of  an  organ  as  if  it  were  an  independent  agent, 
and  had  little  or  no  concern  or  relation  with  other  organs, 
and  with  the  whole  life  of  the  being  ;  throughout  his  treatise 
he  grasps  the  idea  of  a  vital  harmony,  exhibits  the  essential 
interdependence,  the  orderly  subordination  and  coordination 
of  parts,  and  brings  us  face  to  face  with  a  living  organization. 
To  hiir  there  is  no  manifestation  of  the  bodily  life,  however 
seemingly  humble,  which  has  not  its  deep  meaning ;  every 


180  ■    ESSAYS. 

thing  which  is  outwardly  displayed  is  symbolical  of  what  ex- 
ists in  the  innermost.  It  plainly  appears  that  his  science  of 
the  bodily  organism,  fanciful  as  it  often  seems,  is  animated 
with  conceptions  derived  from  the  social  organization ;  and 
although  the  latter  is  a  later,  higher,  and  more  complex  hu- 
man evolution  than  the  bodily  organization,  it  is  certain  that 
ideas  obtained  in  its  sphere  may  be  profitably  applied  to  the 
study  of  the  life  of  the  body.  If  in  one  wonderful  flash  of 
self-consciousness  the  intimate  functions  and  relations  of  every 
part  of  the  body,  and  their  integration  in  the  unity  of  the  ego^ 
were  miraculously  declared,  who  can  tell,  nay,  who  can  im- 
agine, what  a  flood  of  light  would  be  suddenly  thrown  upon 
the  social  relations  of  man  ? 

It  would  be  unprofitable  to  attempt  to  give  here  a  sum- 
mary of  Swedenborg's  physiological  views;  indeed,  it  would 
be  impossible  to  make  an  abridgment  of  them:  among  nu- 
merous wild  conjectures,  fanciful  theories,  strange  conceits, 
and  empty  phrases,  there  are  many  pregnant  suggestions, 
gleams  of  the  most  subtile  insight  and  far-reaching  analogies 
illuminating  the  dry  details  with  light  from  a  higher  sphere. 
When  he  has  gone  astray,  it  might  sometimes  be  justly  said 
of  him  that  "the  light  which  led  him  astray  was  light  from 
heaven."  Doubtless  it  is  an  admiration  of  this  higher  intel- 
lectual light  which  has  inspired  Emerson's  extraordinary  es- 
timate of  his  genius.  He  speaks  of  him  as  one  who  "  seemed, 
by  the  variety  and  amount  of  his  powers,  to  be  a  composition 
of  several  persons — like  the  giant  fruits  which  are  matured  in 
gardens  by  the  union  of  four  or  five  single  blossoms  ;  "  "who 
anticipated  much  science  of  the  nineteenth  century ;  antici- 
pated in  astronomy  the  discovery  of  the  seventh  planet ;  an- 
ticipated the  views  of  modern  astronomy  in  regard  to  the 
generation  of  the  earth  by  the  sun  ;  in  magnetism,  some  im- 
portant conclusions  of  later  students ;  in  chemistry,  the  atomic 
theory;  in  anatomy,  the  discoveries  of  Schlichting,  Munro, 
and  "Wilson ;  and  first  demonstrated  the  office  of  the  lungs." 

"  A  colossal  soul,  he  lies  abroad  on  his  times,  uncompre- 


EMANUEL  SWEDENBORG.  181 

bended  by  them,  and  requires  a  long  focal  distance  to  be  seen; 
suggests,  as  Aristotle,  Bacon,  Selden,  Humboldt,  that  a  cer- 
tain vastness  of  learning,  or  quasi  omnipresence  of  the  human 
Boul  in  Nature,  is  possible.  .  .  .  One  of  the  mastodons  of 
literature,  he  is  not  to  be  measured  by  whole  colleges  of  ordi- 
nary scholars.  His  stalwart  presence  would  flutter  the  gowns 
of  a  university.  Our  books  are  false  by  being  fragmentary; 
their  sentences  are  Ion  mots,  and  not  parts  of  natural  dis- 
course, or  childish  expressions  of  surprise  and  pleasure  in  Na- 
ture. But  Swedenborg  is  systematic,  and  respective  of  the 
world  in  every  sentence :  all  the  means  are  orderly  given ; 
his  faculties  work  with  astronomic  punctuality ;  and  his  ad- 
mirable writing  is  pure  from  all  pertness  or  egotism." 

These  must  appear  strange  and  startling  assertions  to  those 
who  have  considered  deeply  the  slow  and  tedious  course  of 
scientific  discovery,  and  they  woukl  be  more  strange  if  they 
were  true ;  but  the  sober  fact  is,  that  there  is  scarcely  a 
shadow  of  reason  for  attributing  to  him  any  of  these  wonder- 
ful discoveries.  He  speculated  largely  and  vaguely  about 
magnetism,  chemistry,  astronomy,  anatomy,  as  he  did  about 
every  thing  else,  and  expressed  what  he  thought  with  an  un- 
equalled self-sutliciency ;  but,  if  his  speculations  in  these 
sciences  be  compared  with  such  exact  knowledge  of  them  as 
existed  at  the  time,  his  information  will  be  found  to  be  super- 
ficial and  defective,  his  speculations  for  the  most  part  crude, 
barren,  and  fanciful.  In  regard  to  this  question,  it  should  be 
borne  in  mind  that  Swedenborg  did  not  live  and  flourish  in 
the  thirteenth  but  in  the  eighteenth  century ;  that  he  wag 
contemporary  with  Newton  and  Halley  in  science,  with 
Berkeley,  Hume,  and  Kant,  in  philosophy.  It  is  really  only 
by  throwing  him  back,  as  it  were,  into  the  dark  ages,  by  ig- 
noring the  intellectual  development  of  his  time,  and  looking 
on  his  writings  as  the  Mussulman  looks  on  his  Koran,  that  it 
is  excusable  to  break  out  into  any  admiration  of  his  positive 
Bcientific  acquirements.  That  the  world  received  his  publica- 
tions with  indiflPerence  was  the  natural  and  just  consequence 


182  ESSAYS. 

of  tlieir  character ;  it  would,  indeed,  lia-ve  been  remarkable  if 
men  seriously  engaged  in  scientific  work  had  thought  it  worth 
while  to  examine  and  controvert  his  fanciful  opinions.  Vain 
and  futile,  too,  would  the  attempt  assuredly  have  been  if  it 
had  been  made,  for  sober  inquiry  could  not  meet  on  a  com- 
mon platform  with  imagination  run  riot  and  self-confidence 
incapable  of  doubt. 

It  would  be  useless,  then,  to  attempt  to  convey  an  adequate 
notion  of  the  matter  of  Swedenborg's  writings ;  it  must  suf- 
fice here  to  note  their  intellectual  character.  Undoubtedly 
he  possessed  in  a  remarkable  degree  some  of  the  elements  of 
greatness  which  have  existed  in  the  greatest  men  :  a  wonder- 
ful originality  of  conception ;  a  mind  not  subjugated  by  de- 
tails and  formulas,  but  able  to  rise  above  the  trammels  of 
habits  and  systems  of  thought ;  an  extraordinary  faculty  of 
assimilation;  a  vast  power  of  grasping  analogies;  a  sin- 
cere love  of  knowledge;  an  unwearied  industry  and  a  match- 
less daring.  Having  all  these  qualities,  but  entirely  lacking 
intellectual  self-restraint,  he  is  scientifically  as  sounding 
brass  or  a  tinkling  cymbal:  his  originality  unchecked  de- 
generated into  riotous  fancy ;  his  power  of  rising  above  sys- 
tems passed  into  a  disregard  or  disdain  of  patiently-acquired 
facts  ;  though  his  industry  was  immense,  he  never  more  than 
half  learned  what  he  applied  himself  to,  never  patiently  and 
faithfully  assimilated  the  details  of  what  was  known,  but,  se- 
duced by  his  love  of  analogies  and  sustained  by  his  boundless 
self-sufBciency,  he  was  carried  away  into  empty  theories  and 
groundless  speculations.  He  was  unwisely  impatient  of 
doubt,  constitutionally  impatient  of  intellectual  self-control. 
His  writings,  though  containing  many  truths  excellently  illus- 
trated, and  passages  of  great  pregnancy  and  eloquence,  are 
difi'use,  and  very  tedious  to  read ;  they  have  neither  begin- 
ning nor  end,  are  full  of  repetitions,  inconsistencies,  and  even 
contradictions.  His  admirers  may  see  in  such  contradictions 
the  evidence  of  a  persevering  and  single-minded  pursuit  of 
truth,  by  reason  of  which  he  scrupled  not  to  abandon  ao 


EMANUEL  SWEDENBORG.  183 

opinion  so  soon  as  he  discovered  a  wider  horizon ;  but  it  is 
plainly  also  possible  to  discern  in  them  the  evidence  of  an  ill- 
balanced  intellect  drifting  from  all  real  anchorage  in  obser- 
vation and  experience.  Toward  the  end  of  the  "  Principia  " 
he  says : 

"  In  writing  the  present  work  I  have  had  no  aim  at  the  apphause 
of  the  learned  world,  nor  at  the*  acquisition  of  a  name  or  popularity. 
To  me  it  is  a  matter  of  indiflference  whether  I  win  the  favorable 
opinion  of  every  one  or  of  no  one,  whether  1  gain  much  or  no  com-  . 
mendation;  such  things  are  not  objects  of  regard  to  one  whose  mind 
is  bent  on  truth  and  true  philosophy ;  should  I,  therefore,  gain  the 
assent  or  approbation  of  others,  I  shall  receive  it  only  as  a  confirma- 
tion of  my  having  pursued  the  truth.  .  .  .  Should  1  fail  to  gain  the 
assent  of  those  whose  minds,  being  prepossessed  by  other  principles, 
can  no  longer  exercise  an  impartial  judgment,  still  I  shall  have  those 
with  me  who  are  able  to  distinguish  the  true  from  the  untrue,  if  not 
in  the  present,  at  least  in  some  future  age." 

That  he  was  sincere  in  this  serenely  complacent  declara- 
tion is  proved  by  the  calm,  passionless  tone  of  his  writings, 
and  by  the  steady,  unruffled  pursuit  of  his  own  line  of 
thought  in  so  many  fields  of  labor.  But  no  man  is  self- 
sufficing  in  this  universe,  and  it  is  an  irremediable  misfortune 
to  him  when  he  imagines  that  he  is.  A  due  regard  to  the 
views  and  opinions  of  others  is  not  merely  useful,  but  indis- 
pensable to  a  sound  intellectual  development ;  furnishing,  as 
these  do,  a  searching  test  whereby  true  theories  are  separated 
from  those  which  are  false,  the  former  ultimately  verified 
and  accepted,  and  the  latter  rejected.  Truth  is  not  born 
with  any  one  man,  nor  will  it  die  with  him ;  its  progress 
resting  on  the  development  of  the  race  in  which  the  greatest 
of  individuals  has  but  a  very  small  part.  To  profess  an  en- 
tire indifierence  to  the  opinions  of  contemporaries  is  not 
therefore  a  mark  of  wisdom,  but  an  indication  either  of  fool- 
ish pretence,  or  of  inordinate  vanity,  or  of  downright  mad- 
ness, and  shows  a  pitiful  ambition  in  him  who  makes  such  a 
declaration.  How  many  defective  theories  have  been  promul- 
gated, how  much  labor  has  been  vainly  spent,  because  scien- 


184  ESSAYS. 

tific  inquirers  have  not  always  set  tliemselves  conscientiously 
to  work  to  learn  what  has  been  done  by  others  before  they 
began  their  studies,  and  how  their  results  stand  in  relation 
to  well-established  truths  I  The  monomaniac  who  industri- 
ously wastes  his  ingenuity  in  the  construction  of  a  machine 
which  shall  be  capable  of  perpetual  motion  is,  in  his  own  es- 
timation, a  most  earnest  pursuer  of  truth,  and  at  all  events 
has  a  most  sincere  indifference  to  the  criticisms  of  others. 
In  all  the  world  who  more  original  than  he  ? 

AYhile  we  are  constrained,  then,  to  pronounce  Sweden- 
borg's  treatment  of  scientific  subjects  often  shallow,  vague, 
and  fanciful,  and  for  the  most  part  barren  of  exact  knowl- 
edge and  sound  principles,  it  must  be  allowed  that  it  is 
characterized  by  a  comprehensive  grandeur  of  method — a 
method  informed  throughout  with  the  truth  which  Bacon 
earnestly  insisted  on,  that  all  partitions  of  knowledge  should 
be  accepted  rather  "for  lines  to  mark  and  distinguish  than 
for  sections  to  divide  and  separate,  so  that  the  continuance 
and  entirety  of  knowledge  be  preserved."  He  drew  large 
and  inspiring  draughts  from  the  fountain  of  all  sciences — the 
"Philosophia  Prima,"  tracing  with  subtile  insight  "the  same 
footsteps  of  iSTature  treading  or  printing  upon  several  subjects 
or  matters."  Hence  his  works  are  profitable  for  instruction 
and  correction  to  all  men  who  are  engaged  in  special  branches 
of  scientific  research,  and  whose  minds  are  apt  to  be  fettered 
by  the  methods  and  formulas  to  which  their  special  science  has 
been  reduced,  and  according  to  which  they  have  studied  and 
worked,  who  have,  as  Bacon  says,  "abandoned  universality, 
or  philosophia  prima.  For  no  perfect  discovery  can  be  made 
upon  a  flat  or  level:  neither  is  it  possible  to  discover  the 
more  remote  and  deeper  parts  of  any  science,  if  you  stand 
but  on  a  level  of  the  same  science,  and  ascend  not  to  a  highei 
Bcience."  Beyond  the  principles  of  each  science  there  is  a 
philosophy  of  the  sciences ;  beyond  the  artificial  and  some- 
times ill-starred  divisions  which  men  for  the  sake  of  conven- 
ience make,  there  is  a  unity  of  Nature.     The  principles  of 


EMANUEL  SWEDENBORG.  186 

one  science,  fullj  comprehended,  are  a  key  to  the  interpreta- 
tion of  all  sciences ;  they  are  the  same  footsteps  of  Nature 
treading  npon  several  subjects.  How  mischievously  has  the 
human  mind  been  enslaved  by  the  fetters  which  itself  has 
forged!  Is  not  the  most  exalted  iinagery  of  the  true  poet 
f  jndamentally  the  highest  science  ?  And  shall  not  a  philoso- 
phy of  science  be  found  the  highest  poetry  ? 

We  must  now  pass  to  a  period  of  Swedenborg's  life  when 
a  great  change  took  place  in  his  views,  his  work,  and  his 
pretensions.  Hitherto  his  speculations  had  preserved  a 
scientific  semblance;  they  had  been  made  from  some  basis  of 
facts,  and  had  evinced  some  practical  tendency,  although  the 
speculations  went  on  increasing  out  of  proportion  to  the  facts, 
until  these  became  little  more  than  the  occasions  of  theories. 
Now  he  abandoned  the  ground  of  experience  entirely,  and 
entered  the  spiritual  world.  His  subsequent  career  as  seer 
and  theologian  was  the  natural  development  of  his  character, 
but  it  was  a  morbid  development;  and  the  history  which  re- 
mains to  be  told  is  the  history  of  a  learned  and  ingenious^ 
madman,  the  character  of  whose  intellectual  aberration  testi- 
fies to  the  greatness  of  his  original  intellectual  structure. 

The  manner  of  the  great  change  by  which  Swedenborg 
imagined  that  his  eyes  were  opened  to  discern  what  passed 
in  the  world  of  spirits,  and  that  he  was  chosen  by  God  to 
unfold  the  spiritual  sense  of  the  Holy  Scriptures,  was  in  this 
wise:  One  night  in  London,  after  he  had  dined  heartily,  a 
kind  of  mist  spread  before  his  eyes,  and  the  floor  of  his  room 
was  covered  with  hideous  reptiles  such  as  serpents,  toads, 
and  the  like. 

"  I  was  astonished,  having  all  my  wits  about  me,  and  being  per- 
fectly conscious.  The  darkness  attained  its  height  and  then  passed 
away.  I  now  saw  a  man  sitting  in  the  corner  of  the  chamber.  As  1 
had  thought  myself  entirely  alone,  I  was  greatly  frightened  when 
he  said  to  me,  '  Eat  not  so  much.'  My  sight  again  became  dim^  and 
when  I  recovered  it  I  found  myself  alone  in  the  room." 

The  following  night  the  same  thing  occurred. 


186  ESSAYS. 

"I  was  tills  time  not  at  all  alarmed.  The  man  said,  'I  am  God, 
the  Lord,  the  Creator  and  Eedeemer  of  the  world.  I  have  chosen 
thee  to  unfold  to  men  the  spiritual  sense  of  the  Holy  Scripture.  I 
will  myself  dictate  to  thee  what  thou  shalt  write.'  " 

Thenceforth,  he  abandoned  all  worldly  learning  and  la-, 
bored  only  in  spiritual  things ;  the  Lord  had  opened  the  eyes 
of  his  spirit  to  see  in  perfect  wakefulness  what  was  going  on 
in  the  other  world,  and  to  converse,  broad  awake,  with 
angels  and  spirits.  Such  is  his  description  of  the  vision  in 
which  the  scales  fell  from  his  eyes  and  he  was  called,  like 
the  Apostle  of  the  Gentiles,  to  a  new  and  spiritual  mission. 
"What  will  the  ordinary  reader  say  of  it  ?  Without  doubt 
one  of  two  things:  either  that  it  was  a  nightmare  engendered 
by  indigestion  following  too  heavy  a  meal,  or  that  it  was  the 
hallucination  of  a  disordered  brain.  The  former  might  seem 
a  probable  and  sufficient  explanation,  were  it  not  for  some 
important  information  which  exists  with  regard  to  Sweden- 
borg's  mental  condition  at  the  time.  In  1858  a  Diary  kept 
by  him  between  1743  and  1744  was  discovered  and  purchased 
for  the  Royal  Library  at  Stockholm.  It  contains  tedious  and 
wearisome  records  of  the  dreams  which  he  dreamed  night 
after  night,  and  the  spiritual  interpretations  which  he  gave 
to  them.  They  are  of  all  sorts,  running  through  the  gamut 
from  the  lowest  note  of  despair  to  the  highest  pitch  of  exal- 
tation ;  some  are  ecstatic  visions  of  bliss  in  which  he  feels 
himself  in  heaven  ;  others  are  distressing  visions  of  tempta- 
tions, persecutions,  and  sufferings ;  while  others  are  filthy 
details  of  obscenities.  The  following  dream — if  it  were  not 
really  an  epileptic  trance — occurred  in  the  night  between  the 
6th  and  7th  of  April,  1744  : 

"I  went  to  bed.  .  .  .  Half  an  hour  after  I  heard  a  tumbling  noise 
under  my  head.  I  thought  it  was  the  Tempter  going  away.  Imme- 
diately a  violent  trembling  came  over  me  from  head  to  foot  with  a 
great  noise.  This  happeued  several  times.  I  felt  as  if  something  holy 
were  over  me.  I  then  fell  asleep,  and  about  12,  1,  or  2,  the  trem- 
blings and  the  noise  were  repeated  indescribably.  I  was  prostrated 
on  my  face,  and  at  that  moment  I  became  wide  awake  and  perceived 


EMANUEL  SWEDENBORG.  187 

that  I  was  thrown  down,  and  wondered  what  was  the  meaning.  I 
Bpoke  as  if  awake,  but  felt  that  these  words  were  put  into  my  mouth : 

"  '  Thou  Almighty  Jesus  Christ,  who  hy  Thy  great  mercy  deigns 
to  come  to  so  great  a  sinner,  make  me  worthy  of  Thy  grace.' 

"  I  kept  my  hands  together  in  prayer,  and  then  a  hand  came  for* 
ward  and  firmly  pressed  mine.     I  continued  my  prayer,  saying  : 

"  '  Thou  hast  promised  to  have  mercy  upon  all  sinners ;  Thou 
tanst  not  but  keep  Thy  word.' 

"  At  that  moment  I  sat  in  Tlis  bosom,  and  saw  him  face  to  face. 
It  was  a  face  of  holy  mien  and  altogether  indescribable,  and  He  smiled 
BO  that  I  believe  His  face  had  indeed  been  like  this  when  He  lived 
on  earth.  .  .  . 

"  So  I  coiacluded  it  was  the  Son  of  God  Himself,  who  came  down 
with  the  noise  like  thunder,  who  prostrated  me  on  the  ground,  and 
who  called  forth  the  prayer." 

It  is  plain  that  he  was  afflicted  with  such  painfully  vivid 
and  intensely  real  dreams  as  occur  when  the  reason  is  begin- 
ning to  totter,  and  when  it  is  impossible  to  distinguish  be- 
tween dreaming  and  waking  consciousness.  "I  was  the 
whole  night,  nearly  eleven  hours,"  he  says  on  one  occasion, 
"neither  asleep  nor  awake,  in  a  curious  trance."  Every 
one  must  have  experienced  at  some  time  or  another  what 
Spinoza  long  ago  observed,  that  the  scenes  of  a  dream  may 
persist  for  a  time  as  hallucinations  after  awakening,  and 
produce  a  feeling  of  helplessness  or  even  terror.  When  the 
nervous  system  is  prostrated  and  the  threatenings  of  mental 
disorder  declare  themselves,  these  half-waking  hallucinations 
acquire  a  distressing  reality,  and  not  unfrequently  a  disgust- 
ing or  appalling  character.  While  dreams  may  be  considered 
a  temporary  insanity,  insanity  is  a  waking  dream,  and  there 
is  a  border-land  in  which  they  are  so  confounded  as  to  be 
indistinguishable.  This  confusion  is  abundantly  exemplified 
in  the  records  of  Swedenborg's  dreams  and  visions  at  this 
time: 

*  I  had  horrible  dreams ;  how  an  executioner  roasted  the  heads 
which  he  had  struck  off,  and  hid  them  one  after  another  in  an  oven, 
which  was  never  filled.  It  was  said  to  be  food.  He  was  a  big  wom- 
an who  laughed,  and  had  a  little  girl  with  her." 


188  ESSAYS. 

Horrible  and  impious  thoughts  often  caused  him  agonies 
of  suffering : 

"  I  had  troublesome  dreams  about  dogs,  that  were  said  to  be  my 
countrymen,  and  which  sucked  my  neck  without  biting.  ...  In  the 
morning  I  had  horrid  thoughts,  that  the  Evil  One  had  got  hold  of 
me,  yet  with  the  confidence  that  he  was  outside  of  me  and  would  let 
me  go.  Then  I  fell  into  the  most  damnable  thoughts,  the  worst  that 
could  be." 

He  is  persecuted  with  sensual  dreams  on  many  occasions: 

"  April  26  and  27. — I  had  a  pleasant  sleep  for  eleven  hours,  with 
various  representations.  A  mamed  woman  persecuted  me,  but  1  es- 
caped. It  signifies,  that  the  Lord  saves  me  from  persecution  and 
temptation. 

"  A  married  woman  desired  to  possess  me,  but  I  preferred  an  un- 
married. She  was  angry  and  chased  me,  but  I  got  hold  of  the  one  I 
liked.  I  was  with  her,  and  loved  her ;  perhaps  it  signifies  my 
thouguts." 

Some  of  the  entries  which  follow,  made  in  the  month  of 
May,  are  of  a  very  mysterious  character;  and  how  much  of 
what  they  relate  may  be  vision  and  how  much  reality,  it  is 
impossible  to  say : 

"  On  the  20th  I  intended  going  to  the  Lord's  Supper  in  the  Swed- 
ish Church,  but,  just  before,  I  had  fallen  into  many  corrupt  thoughts, 
and  my  body  is  in  continuous  rebelhon,  which  was  also  represented 
to  me  by  froth,  which  had  to  be  wiped  away.  .  .  . 

"  I  nevertheless  could  not  refrain  from  going  after  women,  though 
not  with  the  intention  of  committing  acts,  especially  as  in  my  dreams 
I  saw  it  was  so  much  against  the  law  of  God.  I  went  to  certain  places 
with  Professor  Ohheck.  ...  In  one  day  I  was  twice  in  danger  of  my 
life,  so  that  if  God  had  not  been  my  protector  I  should  have  lost  my 
life.     The  particulars  I  refrain  from  describing." 

Certain  passages  in  the  Diary  are  of  such  a  character  as 
to  be  quite  unlit  for  publication,  or  suitable  only  for  publica- 
tion in  a  medical  journal ;  and  they  are  omitted  therefore  by 
his  biographer. 

A  person  may  of  course  dream  extraordinary  di'eams,  and 


EMANUEL  SWEDENBORG.  189 

keep  a  record  of  them,  without  justly  incurring  th-^  suspicion 
of  any  mental  derangement.  The  notable  circumstances  in 
connection  with  Swedenborg's  dreamings  are  the  indistin- 
guishable blending  of  dreams  and  waking  visions,  and  the 
entire  faith  with  which  he  accepts  and  interprets  them  as 
spiritual  revelations.  As  a  peculiarly  endowed  being  having 
gifts  which  no  other  man  had,  and  the  mission  to  proclaim 
the  church  of  a  New  Jerusalem,  which  he  believed  himself 
to  have,  he  looked  upon  the  wildest  and  most  obscene  of  his 
dreams  as  of  mighty  spiritual  significance ;  even  in  the 
dirtiest  details  of  an  unchaste  dream  he  discovers  a  wonder- 
ful spiritual  meaning.  Had  it  not  been  for  this  spiritual 
interpretation  of  his  dreams  and  visions,  probably  no  one 
would  ever  have  doubted  the  derangement  of  his  intellect. 
But  what  is  there  which,  coming  in  the  name  or  guise  of  the 
spiritual,  some  persons  will  not  be  found  to  accept?  Those, 
however,  who  reject  angrily  the  supposition  of  any  unsound- 
ness of  mind  must  admit,  if  they  know  any  thing  of  its  mor- 
bid phenomena,  that  if  he  was  not  at  this  time  fast  gliding 
into  madness  he  imitated  exceeding  well  the  character  of  the 
incipient  stages.  But  there  is  no  need  of  conjecture  where 
something  like  certainty  is  attainable. 

At  this  period  there  occurs  a  break  of  three  weeks  in  the 
Diary,  the  interruption  corresponding  with  what  appears  to 
have  been  a  positive  attack  of  acute  mania.  He  was  lodging 
at  the  house  of  a  person  named  Broekmer,  in  Fetter  Lane, 
who,  twenty-four  years  afterward,  related  the  following 
story  to  Mathesius,  a  Swedish  clergyman,  by  whom  he  was 
questioned  on  this  subject : 

brockmer's  narrative. 

"  In  the  year  1744,  one  of  the  Moravian  Brethren,  named  Seniff, 
made  acquaintance  with  Mr.  Emanuel  Swedenborg  while  they  were 
passencfers  in  a  post-yacht  from  Holland  to  England.  Mr.  Sweden- 
borg,  who  was  a  God-fearing  man,  wished  to  be  directed  to  some 
house  in  London  where  he  might  live  quietly  and  economically.  Mr 
Seniff  brought  him  to  me,  and  I  cheerfully  took  him  in. 
9 


190  ESSAYS. 

"Mr.  Swedenborg  behaved  very  properly  in  my  house.  Every 
Sunday  he  went  to  the  church  of  the  Moravian  Brothers  in  Fetter 
Lane.  He  kept  solitary,  yet  came  often  to  me,  and  in  talking  ex- 
pressed much  pleasure  in  hearing  the  Gospel  in  London.  So  he 
continued  for  several  months  approving  of  what  he  heard  at  the 
chapel. 

"  One  day  he  said  to  me  he  was  glad  the  Gospel  was  preached  to 
the  poor,  but  complained  of  the  learned  and  rich,  who,  he  thought, 
must  go  to  hell.  Under  this  idea  he  continued  several  months.  He 
told  me  he  was  writing  a  small  Latin  book,  which  would  be  gratui- 
tously distributed  among  the  learned  men  in  the  Universities  of  Eng- 
land. 

"  After  this  he  did  not  open  the  door  of  his  chamber  for  two  days, 
nor  allow  the  maid-servant  to  make  the  bed  and  dust  as  usual. 

"  One  evening  when  I  was  in  a  coffee-house,  the  maid  ran  in  to 
call  me  home,  saying  that  something  strange  must  have  happened 
to  Mr.  Swedenborg.  She  had  several  times  knocked  at  his  door, 
without  his  answering,  or  opening  it. 

"  Upon  this  I  went  home,  and  knocked  at  his  door,  and  called 
him  by  name.  He  then  jumped  out  of  bed,  and  I  asked  him  if  he 
would  not  allow  the  servant  to  enter  and  make  his  bed.  He  an- 
swered '  No,'  and  desired  to  be  left  alone,  for  he  had  a  great  work  on 
hand. 

"  This  was  about  nine  in  the  evening.  Leaving  his  door  and  go- 
ing up-stairs,  he  rushed  up  after  me,  making  a  fearful  appearance. 
His  hair  stood  upright,  and  he  foamed  round  the  mouth.  He  tried  to 
speak,  but  could  not  utter  his  thoughts,  stammering  long  before  he 
could  get  out  a  word. 

"  At  last  he  said  that  he  had  something  to  confide  to  me  privately, 
namely,  that  he  was  Messiah,  that  he  was  come  to  be  crucified  for 
the  Jews,  and  that  I  (since  he  spoke  with  difllculty)  should  be  his 
spokesman,  and  go  with  him  to-morrow  to  the  synagogue,  there  to 
preach  his  words. 

"  He  continued  :  '  I  know  you  are  an  honest  man,  for  I  am  sure 
you  love  the  Lord,  but  I  fear  you  believe  me  not.' 

•'  I  now  began  to  be  afraid,  and  considered  a  long  time  ere  I  re- 
plied.    At  last,  I  said  : 

"  '  You  are,  Mr.  Swedenborg,  a  somewhat  aged  man,  and,  as  you 
tell  me,  have  never  taken  medicine;  wherefore  I  think  some  of  a 
right  sort  would  do  you  good.  Dr.  Smith  is  near  ;  he  is  your  friend 
and  mine ;  let  us  go  to  liim,  and  he  will  give  you  something  fitted 
for  your  state.     Yet  I  shall  make  this  bargain  with  you :  if  the  angeJ 


EMANUEL   SWEDENBORG  191 

appears  to  me  and  delivers  the  message  you  mention,  I  shall  obey 
the  same;  if  not,  you  shall  go  with  me  to  Dr.  Smith  in  the  morn- 
ing.' 

"  He  told  me  several  times  the  angel  would  appear  to  me,  where- 
upon we  took  leave  of  each  other  and  went  to  bed. 

"  In  expectation  of  the  angel,  I  could  not  sleep,  hut  lay  awake  the 
whole  night.  My  wife  and  children  were  at  the  same  time  very  ill, 
which  increased  my  anxiety.    I  rose  about  five  o'clock  in  the  morning. 

"  As  soon  as  Mr.  Swedenborg  heard  me  move  overhead  he  jumped 
out  of  bed,  threw  on  a  gown,  and  ran  in  the  greatest  haste  up  to 
me,  with  his  nightcap  half  on  his  head,  to  receive  the  news  about 
my  call. 

"  I  tried  by  several  remarks  to  prepare  his  excited  mind  for  my 
answer.  He  foamed  again  and  again,  '  But  how  —how — how  ? '  Then 
1  reminded  him  of  our  agreement  to  go  to  Dr.  Smith.  At  this  he 
asked  me  straight  down,  '  Came  not  the  vision  ? '  I  answered  '  No ; 
and  now  I  suppose  you  will  go  with  me  to  Dr.  Smith.'  He  re- 
plied, '  I  will  not  go  to  any  doctor.' 

"  He  then  spoke  a  long  while  to  himself.  At  last  he  said  :  '  I  am 
now  associating  with  two  spirits,  one  on  the  right  hand  and  the  other 
on  the  left.  One  asks  me  to  follow  you,  for  you  are  a  good  fellow  ; 
the  other  says  I  ought  to  have  nothing  to  do  with  you,  because  you 
are  good  for  nothing.' 

"  I  answered,  '  Believe  neither  of  them,  but  let  us  thank  God,  who 
has  given  us  power  to  believe  in  His  Word.' 

"  He  then  went  down-stairs  to  his  room,  but  returned  immediately 
and  spoke,  but  so  confusedly  that  he  could  not  be  understood.  I 
began  to  be  frightened,  suspecting  that  he  might  have  a  penknife  or 
other  instrument  to  hurt  me.  In  my  fear  I  addressed  him  seriously, 
requesting  him  to  walk  down-stairs,  as  he  had  no  business  in  my 
room. 

"  Then  Mr.  Swedenborg  sat  down  in  a  chair  and  wept  like  a  child, 
and  said,  '  Do  you  believe  that  I  will  do  you  any  harm  ? '  I  also  be- 
gan to  weep.    It  commenced  to  rain  very  hard. 

"  After  this  I  dressed.  When  I  came  down  I  found  Mr.  Sweden- 
borg also  dressed,  sitting  in  an  arm-chair,  with  a  great  stick  in  his 
hand  and  the  door  open.  He  called,  '  Come  in,  come  in,'  and  waved 
the  stick.  I  wanted  to  get  a  coach,  but  Mr.  Swedenborg  would  not 
accompany  me. 

"  I  then  went  to  Dr.  Smith.  Mr.  Swedenborg  went  to  the  Swed- 
ish envoy,  but  was  not  admitted,  it  being  post-day.  Departing 
thence,  he  pulled  ofi"  his  clothes  and  rolled  himself  in  very  deep  mud 


192  ESSAYS. 

in  a  gutter.  Then  lie  distributed  money  from  Ms  pockets  among  tlie 
crowd  which  had  gathered. 

"  In  this  state  some  of  the  footmen  of  the  Swedish  envoy  chanced 
to  see  him,  and  brought  him  to  me  very  foul  with  dirt.  I  told  him 
that  a  good  quarter  had  been  taken  for  him  near  Dr.  Smith,  and  asked 
him  if  he  was  willing  to  live  there.     He  answered,  '  Yes.' 

"  I  sent  for  a  coach,  but  Mr.  Swedenborg  would  walk,  and  with 
the  help  of  two  men  he  reached  his  new  lodging. 

"  Arrived  there,  he  asked  for  a  tub  of  water  and  six  towels,  and, 
entering  one  of  the  inner  rooms,  locked  the  door,  and  spite  of  all  en- 
treaties would  not  open  it.  In  fear  lest  he  shoiild  hurt  himself  the 
door  was  forced,  when  he  was  discovered  washing  his  feet,  and  the 
towels  all  wet.  He  asked  for  six  more.  I  went  home,  and  left  six 
men  as  guards  over  him.  Dr.  Smith  visited  him,  and  administered 
some  medicine,  which  did  him  much  good. 

"I  went  to  the  Swedish  envoy,  told  him  what  had  happened, 
and  required  that  ilr.  Swedenborg's  rooms,  in  my  house,  might  be 
sealed.  The  envoy  v/as  infinitely  pleased  with  my  kindness  to  Mr. 
Swedenborg,  thanked  me  very  much  for  all  my  trouble,  and  assured 
me  that  the  sealing  of  Mr.  Swedenborg's  chamber  was  unnecessary, 
as  he  had  heard  well  of  me,  and  had  me  in  perfect  confidence. 

"  After  this  I  continued  to  visit  Mr.  Swedenborg,  who  at  last  had 
only  one  keeper.  He  many  times  avowed  his  gratitude  for  the  trou- 
ble I  had  with  him.  He  would  never  leave  the  tenet,  however,  that 
he  was  Messiah. 

"  One  day  when  Dr.  Smith  had  given  him  a  laxative,  he  went  out 
into  the  fields  and  ran  about  so  fast  that  his  keeper  could  not  follow 
him.  Mr.  Swedenborg  sat  down  on  a  stile  and  laughed.  "When  his 
man  came  near  him,  he  rose  and  ran  to  another  stile,  and  so  on. 

"  When  the  dog  days  began,  he  became  worse  and  worse.  After- 
ward I  associated  very  little  with  him.  Now  and  then  we  met  in  the 
streets,  and  I  always  found  he  retained  his  former  opinion." 

Mathesius  adjoins  to  his  copy  this  testimony  : 

"The  above  account  was  word  by  word  delivered  to  me  by  Mr. 
Brockmer,  an  honest  and  trustworthy  man,  in  the  house  and  presence 
of  Mr.  Burgman,  minister  of  the  German  Church,  the  Savoy,  London, 
while  Swedenborg  lived.  Arox  M^thesics. 

"Stoba  Hallfara,  August  21,  1796.'" 

Here  then  is  a  well-anthenticated  narrative  of  an  outbreak 
of  acute  insanity  sncQ  a3  any  medical  psychologist,  acquainted 


EMANUEL  SWEDEXBORG.  193 

■^vitli  what  had  gone  before,  might  have  almost  ventured  to 
predict.  Some  of  Swedenborg's  admirers  liave  tried  eagerly 
but  vainly  to  impugn  the  veracity  of  Brockmer's  story,  as  re- 
lated by  Mathesius ;  it  was  not  only  confirmed  by  other  in- 
quirers, but  it  accords  singularly  with  the  revelations  which 
Swedenborg  makes  of  his  mental  state  in  the  Diary,  and  it 
assuredly  bears  in  its  circumstances  the  evidence  of  truth. 
Admitted,  as  it  must  be,  to  be  true  in  its  main  features,  there 
remains  no  doubt  that  Swedenborg  was  insane  at  the  time 
when  he  claimed  to  have  been  first  admitted  to  intercourse 
with  the  spiritual  world.  After  the  acute  attack  had  passed 
oflf,  as  it  did  in  a  few  weeks,  was  he  perfectly  restored,  or 
was  he  still  the  victim  of  a  chronic  mania  or  monomania, 
such  as  not  unfrequently  follows  acute  madness?  There 
were  two  circumstances  in  this  case  which  would  have  pre- 
vented an  experienced  physician  from  looking  forward  with 
hope  to  an  entire  recovery.  The  first  was  the  age  of  the 
patient,  for  Swedenborg  was  at  the  time  fifty-six  years  old  ; 
and  the  second  was  that  his  madness  was  not  a  strange 
calamity  coming  on  him  unexpectedly  from  without,  foreign 
to  his  nature,  extrinsic,  but  that  it  was  native  to  his  charac- 
ter, the  result  of  an  unsound  development  of  its  tendencies — 
it  was  a  natural,  an  intrinsic  madness.  In  the  former  case 
the  ego^  regaining  power,  may  throw  off  the  intruding  aflflic- 
tion  and  reestablish  itself:  in  the  latter  the  mania  absorbs 
and  becomes  the  ego^  wherefore  no  return  to  entire  sanity  is 
possible.  It  was  not  then  scientifically  probable  that  Swe- 
denborg would  recover ;  it  was,  on  the  contrary,  probable 
that  he  would  suffer  for  the  rest  of  his  life  from  the  mono- 
maniacal  form  of  chronic  mania.  The  few  records  in  his  Diary 
which  occur  after  his  acute  attack  tend  to  confirm  the  pre-* 
Bumption  of  a  continued  derangement. 
Thus : 

*'  July  1  and  2. — There  happened  to  me  something  very  ourious. 
I  came  into  violent  shudderings,  as  when  Christ  showed  me  His 
Divine  mercy.    The  one  fit  followed  the  other  ten  or  fifteen  times. 


194  ESSAV^S. 

I  expected  to  be  tlirown  on  my  face  as  before,  but  this  did  not  occur. 
At  last,  trembling,  I  was  lifted  up,  and  with  my  hands  I  felt  a 
(human)  back.  1  felt  with  my  hands  all  along  the  back,  and  then 
the  breast.  Immediately  it  lay  down,  and  I  saw  in  front  the  counte- 
nance also,  but  very  obscurely.  I  was  then  kneeling,  and  I  thought 
to  myself  whether  or  not  I  should  lay  myself  down  beside  it,  but  this 
I  did  not,  for  it  seemed  as  if  not  permitted. 

"  The  shudderings  came  all  from  the  lower  parts  of  my  body  up 
to  my  head.  This  was  in  a  vision  when  I  was  neither  waking  nor 
Bleeping,  for  I  had  all  my  thoughts  about  me.  It  was  the  inward 
man  separated  from  the  outward  that  was  made  aware  of  this." 

WLat,  then,  are  the  conclusions,  broadly  stated,  whicb  we 
may  hold  to  be  thus  far  established?  That  in  the  year  1744 
or  1745  Swedenborg  suddenly  abandoned  all  his  former 
pursuits  and  interests;  that  he  claimed  to  have  been  then 
admitted  to  the  spiritual  world,  and  to  have  the  power 
of  talking  with  angels;  that  coincidently  with  this  great 
change  and  new  mission  he  was  writing  what  an  unpreju- 
diced person  must  affirm  to  he  the  product  of  madness; 
and,  lastly,  that  he  had  undoubtedly  an  acute  attack  of  mad- 
ness. Is  it  not  reasonable  to  infer  that  his  new  and  strange 
pretensions  were  the  outcome  of  his  madness?  JS'ot  so,  his 
disciples  may  perhaps  say;  for  throughout  his  preyious  career 
he  had  been  gradually  rising  from  the  earthly  to  the  spiritual ; 
he  had  mounted  step  by  step  from  the  study  of  the  lowest 
forms  of  matter  to  the  investigation  of  its  highest  organic 
evolution  ;  and  his  new  mission  was  the  bright  and  blessed 
development,  the  glorious  inflorescence,  of  a  consistent  life. 
No  question  that  it  was  the  natural  evolution  of  his  previous 
intellectual  career ;  a  self-sufficiency  knowing  no  bounds  had 
risen  to  the  preposterous  pretensions  of  monomania,  and  an 
imagination  habitually  running  riot  had  at  last  run  mad.  To 
lire  a  life  of  complete  seclusion,  to  pursue  contentedly  an 
individual  line  of  thought,  isolated  from  communion  with 
men,  estranged  from  their  doings  and  interests,  is  nowise  the 
way  to  preserve  a  sound  mental  equilibrium  ;  it  is  indeed  the 
sure  way  to  engender  a  morbid  style  of  thought  and  feeling. 


EMANUEL  SWEDENBORG.  195 

to  lead  to  a  moral  or  intellectual  monomania.  Speculative 
philosophers,  impracticable  theorists,  self-inspired  prophets, 
and  other  able  men  unhappily  insulated  by  undue  self-esteem, 
may  retire  to  the  solitude  of  their  chambers,  and  launch  forth 
their  systems,  their  theories,  their  denunciations,  or  their 
scorn;  but  the  greatest  men,  who  have  preserved  a  healthy 
tone  of  mind  and  displayed  the  highest  intellectual  energy, 
have  not  separated  themselves  from  other  men,  but  have 
lived  in  sympathy  with  them,  and  have  moved  and  had  their 
being  among  thera.  As  outward  expression  of  idea  is  essen- 
tial to  its  clearness  of  conception,  so  a  life  of  action  is  essen- 
tial to  the  highest  life  of  thought.  It  is  in  the  social  as  it  is  in 
the  bodily  organism  :  the  surrounding  elements  of  the  struct- 
ure ever  exert  a  beneficial  controlling  influence  on  any  ele- 
ment which  has  taken  on  an  excessive  individual  action  ;  and 
if  this  escape  from  such  modifying  influence,  its  energy  runs 
into  disease,  and  it  becomes  an  excrescence. 

In  July,  1845,  Swedenborg  returned  to  Sweden,  and  soon 
afterward  resigned  his  assessorship,  so  that  he  might  be  at 
liberty  to  devote  himself  to  the  new  function  to  which  he 
imagined  that  he  had  been  especially  called.  Accordingly, 
all  scientific  studies  and  pursuits  he  now  abandoned  entirely ; 
all  worldly  honors  and  interests  he  counted  worthless ;  he 
devoted  himself  to  that  sacred  oflSce  "  to  which  the  Lord 
Himself  has  called  me,  who  was  graciously  pleased  to  mani- 
fest Himself  to  me.  His  unworthy  servant,  in  a  personal  ap- 
pearance in  the  year  1743 ;  to  open  in  me  a  sight  of  the 
spiritual  world,  and  to  enable  me  to  converse  with  spirits  and 
angels.  .  .  .  Hence  it  has  been  permitted  me  to  hear  and  see 
things  in  another  life  which  are  astonishing,  and  which  have 
never  come  to  the  knowledge ~of  any  man,  nor  entered  into 
his  imagination.  I  have  been  there  instructed  concerning 
different  kinds  of  spirits^  and  the  state  of  souls  after  death — 
concerning  hell,  or  the  lamentable  state  of  the  unfaithful — 
concerning  heaven,  or  the  most  happy  state  of  the  faithful, 
und  particularly  concerning  the  doctrine  of  faith,  which  ia 


196  ESSAYS. 

acknowledged  throughout  heaven."  He  is  well  aware  that 
manj  persons  will  affirm  that  such  intercourse  is  impossible, 
and  that  it  must  be  mere  fancy  and  illusion  on  his  part,  but 
for  all  this  he  cares  not,  seeing  that  "he  has  seen,  heard,  and 
had  sensible  experience  "  of  what  he  declares : 

"  I  am  aware  that  many  who  read  these  pages  will  believe  that 
they  are  fictions  of  the  imagination;  but  I  solemnly  declare  they  are 
not  fictions,  but  were  truly  done  and  seen ;  and  that  I  saw  them,  not 
in  any  state  of  the  mind  asleep,  but  in  a  state  of  perfect  wakeful- 
ness." 

And  he  goes  on  to  declare,  calmly  and  seriously,  the 
fundamental  purpose  of  his  high  mission — that  through  him 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  made  His  second  advent  for  the  insti- 
tution of  a  new  church  described  in  the  Revelation  under 
the  figure  of  the  New  Jerusalem. 

It  must  be  borne  in  mind,  with  regard  to  these  wonderful 
voyages  to  the  spiritual  world,  that  Swedenborg  did  not  look 
upon  it  as  totally  unlike,  far  away  and  distinct  from,  the 
natural  world  of  which  we  have  experience — as  a  country 
high  up  above  tlie  clouds,  where  people  are  continually  occu- 
pied in  doing  the  reverse  of  what  they  had  any  pleasure  in 
doing  on  earth,  and  indeed  are  altogether  so  changed  in  char- 
acter, habits,  and  pursuits,  that,  if  they  can  affirm  their 
identity,  they  must  be  very  much  astonished  at  themselves. 
On  the  contrary,  he  considered  the  spiritual  world  to  be  the 
life  and  cause  of  the  natural  world,  which  corresponded  with 
it  throughout. 

"  The  whole  natural  world  corresponds  to  the  spiritual  world  col- 
lectively and  in  every  part ;  for  the  natural  world  exists  and  subsists 
from  the  spiritual  world,  just  as  an  efi'ect  does  from  its  cause.  .  .  . 

*'  Whenever  I  have  been  in  company  with  angels,  the  objects  in 
heaven  appeared  so  exactly  like  those  in  the  world,  that  I  knew  no 
other  than  that  I  was  on  earth.  .  .  . 

"  There  is  so  little  difference  between  the  life  of  the  spirit  and  the 
life  of  the  body  that  those  who  have  died  can  hardly  realize  that  a 
change  has  been  made.  .  .  . 

"  A  man  is  equally  a  man  after  death,  and  a  man  so  perfectly  that 


EMAKUEL  SWEDENBORG.  197 

he  knows  no  other  than  that  he  is  still  on  earth.  He  sees,  hears,  and 
Bpeaks  as  on  earth ;  he  walks,  runs,  and  sits  as  on  earth ;  he  eats  and 
drinks  as  on  earth ;  he  sleeps  and  wakes  as  on  earth ;  he  enjoys 
sexual  delights  as  on  earth ;  in  short,  he  is  a  man  in  general  and 
every  particular  as  on  earth,  whence  it  is  plain  that  death  is  a  con- 
tinuation of  life,  and  a  mere  transit  to  another  plane  of  being." 

All  things  in  heaven,  he  says,  appear  to  he  in  place  and 
space  exactly  as  in  the  world,  but  all  changes  of  place  are 
effected  by  the  mind.  When  an  angel  or  spirit  desires  to  go 
from  one  place  to  another,  the  desire  effects  its  own  accom- 
plishment, and  he  arrives  sooner  or  later,  according  as  he  is 
eager  or  indifferent.  "Approximations  in  the  spiritual 
world  arise  from  similitudes  of  mind,  and  removals  from  dis- 
similitudes ;  and  thus  spaces  are  merely  signs  of  inner  differ- 
ences. .  .  .  From  this  case  alone  the  hells  are  altogether 
separated  from  the  heavens." 

Now  Swedenborg  maintained  that  to  him  it  was  given, 
by  the  opening  of  his  spiritual  sight,  to  enter  the  spiritual 
world  and  to  see  what  was  going  on  there,  while  he  was  still 
in  the  natural  world  ;  and  that  so  completely  that  the  spirits 
"knew  no  other  than  that  I  was  one  of  themselves.  An 
experience  like  mine  no  one  from  creation  has  had."  It  is 
not  without  interest,  nor  without  significance,  to  observe 
what  a  superior  position  he  assigns  himself  in  the  spiritual 
world  :  he  is  the  seer  in  heaven  as  on  earth  ;  can  see  through 
the  angels  at  a  glance  and  teach  them  many  things,  while 
they  in  vain  attempt  to  contend  with  him  in  argument — are 
ignominiously  worsted  if  they  pretend  to  do  so.  The  won- 
der is,  how  any  one  can  sincerely  accept  as  revelation  some 
of  the  absurdities  and  obscenities  which  he  relates,  how  the 
nature  of  many  of  his  spiritual  discoveries  can  fail  to  destroy 
faith  in  his  seership.  On  the  theory  of  his  madness,  the 
exalted  position  which  he  serenely  assumes,  his  assertion  of  a 
correspondence  between  the  spiritual  and  the  natural  world, 
and  the  character  of  his  revelations,  are  quite  consistent.  lie 
lived  and  moved  in  the  world,  and  saw  it  with  his  bodily 


198  ESSAYb. 

eyes  as  other  persons  see  it ;  but  his  disordered  intellect  was 
continually  occupied  in  spiritualistic  reflections  to  which  his 
disordered  imagination  gave  shape;  the  morbid  creations 
being  projected  outward  and  then  represented  as  events  of 
the  spiritual  world.  Formerly  he  had  devoted  his  energies 
to  scientific  speculations,  and  had  elaborated  wonderful  theo- 
ries of  Nature ;  now  that  he  had  discarded  all  scientific  pur- 
suits, and  confined  himself  entirely  to  the  study  and  the 
mystical  interpretation  of  the  Scriptures,  he  framed  a  more 
wonderful  theory  of  the  spiritual  world.  His  eyes  were  in- 
deed opened  to  see  what  other  people  could  not  see,  but  the 
gift  was  nowise  so  singular  as  he  imagined ;  every  monoma- 
niac being  similarly  gifted.  What  to  him  are  space  and 
time,  the  laws  of  Nature,  the  hard-won  experience  of  man- 
kind, the  social  interests  and  obligations  ?  He  is  above  law, 
above  criticism,  above  error — has  a  divine  right  to  be  always 
right ! 

In  1749  Swedenborg  published  the  first  volume  of  his 
"Arcana  Coelestia,"  the  work  being  completed  in  eight  quarto 
volumes,  the  last  of  which  appeared  in  1756.  Most  of  this 
time  he  appears  to  have  spent  in  London.  It  would  be  vain 
to  attempt  to  give  an  adequate  idea  of  the  variety  of  subjects 
handled  by  him  and  of  the  marvelous  experiences  which  he 
records ;  it  must  suffice  to  select  and  present  a  few  illustra- 
tions from  Mr.  White's  numerous  quotations. 

The  following  are  from  the  "  Spiritual  Diary."  The  first 
of  them  indicates  the  disturbed  nights  which  he  often  had  : 

"  When  I  was  about  to  go  to  sleep,  it  was  stated  that  certain  spirits 
were  conspiring  to  kill  me  ;  but  because  I  "was  secure,  I  feared  noth- 
ing, and  fell  asleep.  About  the  middle  of  the  night  I  awoke,  and  felt 
that  I  did  not  breathe  from  myself,  but,  as  I  believed,  from  Heaven. 
It  was  then  plainly  told  me  that  the  whole  hosts  of  spirits  had  con- 
spired  to  suffocate  me,  and  as  soon  as  they  had  made  the  attempt  a 
heavenly  respiration  was  opened  in  me,  and  they  were  defeated."        ! 

Another  feature  of  his  troubled  state  of  mind  seems  to 
ha^e  been  a  kleptomaniacal  tendency  : 


EMANUEL  SWEDEXBORG.  199 

"  1  observed  that  certain  spirits  often  wished  to  excite  me  to  steal 
things  of  small  value,  such  as  are  met  with  in  shops  ;  and  so  great 
■was  their  desire  that  they  actually  moved  my  hand.  I  ascertained 
that  in  the  world  these  spirits  had  been  tradespeople,  who  by  various 
artifices  defrauded  their  customers,  and  thought  it  allowable.  Some 
had  been  celebrated  merchants,  at  which  I  wondered.  .  .  ,  When 
they  were  with  me,  as  soon  as  I  saw  any  tbing  in  shops,  or  any  pieces 
of  money,  or  the  like,  their  cupidity  became  manifest  to  me ;  for 
thinking  themselves  to  be  me,  they  urged  that  I  should  stretch  forth 
my  hand  to  steal,  quite  contrary  to  my  usual  state  and  custom." 

Hallucinations  of  taste  and  smell  were  not  wanting : 

*'  It  has  sometimes,  yea  rather  often,  happened  that  what  had 
tasted  well,  has  been  changed  in  my  mouth  to  what  is  nasty,  or  to 
another  taste.  Twice,  if  I  mistake  not,  sugar  tasted  almost  like  salt. 
A  liquid  I  drank  had  infused  into  it  a  salty  taste  expressed  by  the 
spirits  from  the  juices  of  the  body.  .  .  .  The  taste  of  man  is  thus 
changed  according  to  the  phantasies  of  the  spirits. 

The  spirits  plot  to  make  him  commit  suicide  : 

"  It  was  often  observed,  that  when  I  was  in  the  streets,  evil  spirits 
wished  to  cast  me  under  the  wheels  of  carriages  ;  the  efibrt  was,  in 
fact,  habitual  to  them.  To-day  I  noticed  particularly  that  they  were 
in  the  constant  endeavor  to  do  so.  I  was  enabled  to  perceive  that 
evil  spirits  made  the  attempt,  and  that  indeed  such  mischief  is  their 
life. 

"  There  was  a  certain  woman  (Sarah  Hesselia)  who  inwardly  cher- 
ished such  an  aversion  to  her  parents  that  she  meditated  poisoning 
them.  She  took  into  her  head  that  I  was  willing  to  marry  her,  and 
when  she  found  out  that  she  was  mistaken,  she  was  seized  with  such 
hatred  that  she  thought  of  killing  me,  had  it  been  possible.  She  died 
not  long  afterward. 

"  Some  time  before  the  faculty  of  conversing  with  spirits  was 
opened  in  me,  I  was  impelled  to  commit  suicide  with  a  knife.  The 
impulse  grew  so  strong  that  I  was  forced  to  hide  the  knife  out  of  sight 
in  my  desk. 

"I  have  now  discovered  that  Sarah  Hesselia  was  the  spirit  who 
excited  the  suicidal  impulse  as  often  as  I  saw  the  knife.  From  this 
it  may  appear  that  men  may  be  unconsciously  infested  with  spirits 
who  hated  them  during  their  life  on  earth." 

It  will  be  observed  how  Swedenborg,  whose  sense  of  right 


200  ESSAYS. 

and  wrong  was  clear  and  sharp,  attributes  to  wicked  spirits 
the  evil  impulses  and  feelings  which  sprang  from  his  disorder. 
"It  is  given  to  me  to  know  instantly,"  he  says,  "the  char- 
acter of  spirits,  and  not  to  believe  that  the  feelings  which 
they  insinuate  are  my  own,  as  people  generally  do,  who  credit 
themselves  with  whatever  occurs  in  their  minds."  Truly,  a 
saving  faith,  which  evidently  withheld  him  from  the  commis- 
sion of  many  an  overt  act  of  insanity. 

What  he  writes  of  the  Quakers,  of  whom  his  spiritual  ex- 
perience had  given  him  a  very  bad  opinion,  may  be  quoted 
here,  in  order  to  show  the  kind  of  filthy  imaginings  which 
some  persons  are  content  to  accept  as  his  spiritual  revela- 
tions. 

"  When  I  awoke  in  the  night,  I  found  in  the  hair  of  my  head  a 
multitude  of  very  small  snakes.  It  was  perceived  that  Quaker  spirits 
had  been  plotting  against  me  while  I  was  asleep,  but  without  effect. 
It  was  only  by  their  phantasies  that  they  were  among  my  hair  where 
I  felt  them. 

"  The  secret  worship  of  the  Quakers  sedulously  concealed  from  the 
world  was  made  manifest.  It  is  a  worship  so  wdcked,  execrable,  and 
abominable,  that  were  it  known  to  Christians  they  would  expel  Qua- 
kers from  society,  and  permit  them  to  live  only  among  beasts. 

"  They  have  a  vile  communion  of  wives.  The  women  say  they  are 
possessed  by  the  devil,  and  that  they  can  only  be  delivered  if  men 
filled  with  tlie  Holy  Ghost  cohabit  with  them.  Men  and  women  sit 
round  a  table,  and  wait  for  the  influx  of  the  spirit.  .  .  .  When  a 
woman  feels  the  devil,  she  selects  a  man  and  retires  with  him," 
etc.,  etc. 

"It  was  inquired  whether  the  Quakers  engaged  in  these  obscene 
rites  with  their  daughters  and  maid-servants,  and  it  was  said  that 
they  did." 

These  atrocious  and  most  absurd  charges  bear  on  their 
face  the  evidence  of  the  sink  in  which  they  were  engendered; 
they  are  the  disgusting  spawn  of  a  diseased  fancy  dwelling 
with  a  pathological  sympathy  upon  sexual  obscenities  after 
sexual  power  had  been  exhausted  by  excesses.  There  is 
really  no  excuse  which  can  be  offered  for  them  but  the  sad 
excuse  of  a  diseased  mind.     If  his  followers  be  possessed  of 


EMANUEL  SWEDENBORG.  201 

•orae  sure  canon  by  wliich  they  are  able  to  distinguish  such 
iniquitous  assertions  from  those  which  they  deem  unquestion- 
able truths  of  the  spiritual  worlds,  and  to  pronounce  them 
errors  or  hallucinations,  they  should  declare  it ;  for  they  as- 
suredly rest  on  the  same  evidence  as  the  seer's  other  spiritual 
revelations,  and  as  the  revelations  of  the  monomaniac — the 
ipse  dixit  of  the  narrator. 

Swedenborg's  sublime  self-sufficiency  comes  strongly  out 
in  his  intercourse  with  the  prophets,  apostles,  and  other  dis- 
tinguished persons  whom  he  meets  in  the  spiritual  world;  he 
stands  in  no  sort  of  awe  or  reverence  of  them,  hardly  shows 
them  common  respect.  "Why,  indeed,  should  he,  seeing  that 
he  declared  himself  to  have  a  mission  equal  to,  or  higher 
than,  that  which  any  of  them  had  fulfilled  ?  Believing  that  it 
was  through  his  instrumentality  that  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ 
had  made  his  second  advent  for  the  institution  of  the  new 
church  signified  by  the  New  Jerusalem  in  the  Revelation, 
his  coming  was  second  only,  if  it  was  second,  to  the  first  ad- 
vent. "Whether  he  still  had  the  notion,  which  dm'ing  liis 
acute  attack  of  insanity  he  expressed,  that  he  was  actually 
the  Messiah,  does  not  clearly  appear ;  it  is  certain,  however, 
that  he  believed  the  second  coming  to  have  taken  place  in 
his  person,  and  the  reign  of  the  new  church  to  have  com- 
menced. He  had  fulfilled  what  John  had  mystically  foretold 
in  the  Eevelation;  and  had  been  a  witness  of  the  last  judg- 
ment which  took  place  in  the  world  of  spirits  in  the  year  1757. 
"Very  characteristic  of  the  placid  monomania  with  which  he 
was  afflicted  is  the  manner  in  which  he  speaks  of  those  whose 
life  and  works  placed  them  in  a  position  of  rivalry  to  him  ; 
his  serene  superiority  enables  him  to  discover  at  a  glance  the 
evil  passions  with  which  they  have  been  possessed.  Observe 
what  he  says  of  David  and  of  Paul :  "  David  is  possessed 
with  the  lust  of  being  chief  in  heaven.  .  .  .  Persuaded  that  he 
was  a  god,  he  proclaimed  himself  one." 

It  was  natural,  then,  that  he  should  have  no  kind  feeling 
to  Swedenborg : 


202  ESSAYS. 

"  When  I  went  to  bed,  evil  spirits  formed  a  design  to  destroy  me, 
and  for  this  end  took  measures  to  call  out  hell  and  every  malicious 
spirit.  .  .  .  They  evoked  David  also,  who  appeared  before  me  in  a 
dense  cloud." 

Assuredly  we  have  a  right  to  wonder  how  those  wh.o  ac- 
cept Swedenborg's  claim  of  a  Divine  mission  contrive  to  rec- 
oncile these  revelations  of  David's  character  with  the  char- 
acter of  the  "man  after  God's  own  heart."  It  is  impossible 
to  accuse  Swedenborg  of  conscious  imposture ;  no  impostor 
would  have  ventured  on  gravely  making  such  incredible 
statements;  it  follows,  therefore,  either  that  David  was  an 
impostor,  or  that  Swedenborg  was  mad.  Vague  and  windy 
declamation  will  not  obscure  the  issue ;  for  if  the  matter  be 
sincerely  sounded,  it  will  appear  that  from  the  one  or  the 
other  conclusion  there  is  no  escape.  After  all,  the  theory  of 
insanity  will  be  found  the  most  acceptable  explanation  or  ex- 
cuse, seeing  that,  if  it  be  not  admitted,  many  holv  men  besides 
David  must  be  deemed  to  have  been  nothing  better  than  im- 
postors.    Here  is  what  he  says  of  Paul  and  his  pretensions : 

"  A  certain  devil  fancied  himself  the  very  devil  who  deceived 
Adam  and  Eve.  ...  It  was  given  me  to  hear  Paul  speaking  with 
him  and  saying  he  wished  to  be  his  companion,  and  that  they  would 
go  together  and  make  themselves  gods. 

"  During  my  sleep  I  have  been  infested  by  adulterers,  and  this 
devil  and  Paul  have  lent  there  aid  to  my  infesters,  and  so  stubbornly 
held  me  in  an  adulterous  train  of  thought  that  I  could  scarcely  release 
myself.  .  .  .  Hence  Paul's  nefarious  character  was  made  known. 

"  Paul  is  among  the  worst  of  the  apostles,  as  has  been  made 
known  to  me  by  large  experience.  .  .  .  Besides,  he  connected  him- 
self with  one  of  the  worst  devils,  would  fain  rule  all  things,  and 
pledged  himself  to  obtain  for  him  his  end.  It  would  be  tedious  for 
me  to  write  all  I  know  about  Paul." 

We  are  not  concerned  here  to  vindicate  Paul's  character, 
who  certainly,  though  he  called  himself  the  least  of  the  apos- 
tles, did  not  undervalue  his  importance  ;  we  are  concerned 
only  with  the  revelation  which  Swedenborg  makes  of  his  own 
sublime  self-sufl5ciency  in  heaven  as  on  earth.     Luther,  hear- 


I 


EMANUEL   SWEDENBORG  203 

mg  of  his  power  wliile  in  tlie  natural  world  to  converse  with 
those  in  the  spiritual  world,  came  with  others  to  see  him,  and 
asked  many  questions ;  learning,  however,  that  the  church 
had  come  to  an  end  and  that  a  new  church  had  commenced, 
be  grew  very  indignant ;  but  after  a  while  his  railing  ceased, 
and  he  received  the  doctrine  of  the  new  Jerusalem,  and  ridi- 
culed his  former  tenets  as  in  direct  opposition  to  the  "Word. 
Calvin  is  in  like  manner  refuted  by  Swedenhorg,  and  rebuked 
in  the  following  energetic  words : 

"  You  talk  impiously :  begone,  you  wicked  spirit !  You  are  in 
the  spiritual  world,  and  do  you  not  know  that  predestination  implies 
that  some  are  appointed  for  heaven  and  some  for  hell  ?  Have  you 
any  other  idea  of  God  than  as  of  a  tyrant,  who  admits  his  favorites  into 
his  city,  but  condemns  the  rest  to  a  slaughter-house  ?  Be  ashamed 
then,  and  blush  for  your  doctrine  I  " 

The  extracts  which  have  been  made  will  be  suflScient  to 
exhibit  the  ridiculous  side  of  Swedenborg's  revelations  of  his 
intercourse  with  the  spiritual  world,  and  the  insane  extrava- 
gance of  his  pretensions ;  nevertheless,  it  would  be  a  great 
mistake  to  suppose  that  all  which  he  says  in  his  "  Arcana 
Ccelestia "  is  equally  foolish ;  it  cannot,  indeed,  be  denied 
that  there  is  much  of  a  very  different  character.  Take,  for 
example,  his  acount  of  character,  whicb  he  asserts  to  be 
the  only  passport  to  heaven ;  it  is  unchangeable  after  death  : 
wherever  there  is  a  man  in  whose  heart  benevolence  rules, 
there  is  an  angel ;  and  wherever  there  is  a  man  in  whose 
heart  selfishness  rules,  there  is  a  devil,  who  will  remain  so 
for  all  eternity.  "Ample  experience  enables  me  to  testify 
that  it  is  impossible  to  communicate  heavenly  life  to  those 
who  have  led  an  infernal  life  on  earth." 

"  Some  who  believed  that  they  could  easily  receive  divine  truths 
after  death  from  the  lips  of  angels,  and  therewith  amend  their 
hahits,  were  subjected  to  the  experiment.  Some  of  them  understood 
the  truths  they  heard,  and  appeared  to  accept  them ;  but  presently, 
when  left  to  themselves,  they  rejected,  and  even  argued  against,  what 
they  had  learned.  Others  denied  the  truths  as  quickly  as  they  were 
spoken.  .  .  .  They  are  told  for  their  instruction  that  heaven  is  not 


204  ESSAYS. 

denied  to  any  one  by  the  Lord,  and  that  if  they  please  they  may  go 
there  and  stay  as  long:  as  they  like.  "When,  however,  they  make  the 
attempt,  they  are  seiz-ed  at  the  threshold  with  such  anguish  that,  in 
their  torment,  they  cast  themselves  down  headlong." 

From  these  and  similar  experiments,  it  is  rendered  cer- 
tain that  no  change  in  character  is  possible  after  death ;  to 
transform  an  evil  life  into  a  good  life  would  be  to  destroy  it 
altogether.  Surely  there  is  a  far  higher  sense  of  truth  than 
there  is  in  the  vulgar  fancy  that  in  changing  worlds  there 
will  be  a  change  of  character ;  that  a  man,  in  taking  leave  of 
this  life,  will  take  leave  of  his  tastes,  feelings,  habits,  and 
opinions,  and  undergo  suddenly  a  revolution  of  nature 
equivalent  to  the  destruction  of  his  identity  and  the  creation 
of  a  new  being.  "Were  such  a  transformation  to  take  place, 
it  is  quite  plain  that  the  individual  would  not  know  himself 
any  more  than  the  butterfly  knows  the  caterpillar  which  it 
has  been,  and  that  no  one  else  would  know  him :  that  he 
would  not  need,  therefore,  to  concern  himself  greatly  about 
a  future  state  of  immortality  in  which  he  would  be  so  com- 
pletely cut  off  from  his  earthly  life  as  to  have  no  real  relation 
to  it.  That  only  which  has  been  heavenly  here  will  be  heaven- 
ly hereafter.  What,  in  truth,  is  the  heavenly  reward  of  a  vir- 
tuous life  but  the  love  of  virtue  and  the  unhindered  practice 
of  virtuous  acts  ?  What  the  punishment  of  hell  but  the  delight 
in  vice  and  the  unrestrained  indulgence  of  a  vicious  nature  ? 
Whatever  his  eternal  future,  each  man  on  earth  has  heaven 
or  hell  in  and  around  him,  and  will  assuredly  take  one  or  the 
other  with  him  wherever  he  goes,  and  not  find  it  there.  Ac- 
cordingly, Swedenborg  asserts  that  no  one  is  punished  in  the 
world  of  spirits  for  deeds  done  on  earth.  An  evil  spirit  is  only 
punished  for  the  crimes  he  then  and  there  commits.  "  IS^ev- 
ertheless,  there  is  no  actual  difference,  wliether  it  is  said 
that  the  wicked  are  punished  for  their  crimes  on  earth,  or 
for  the  crimes  they  commit  in  the  world  of  spirits ;  because 
every  being  preserves  his  character  through  death,  and  at- 
tempts to  repeat  the  deeds  done  in  the  flesh." 


EMANUEL  SWEDENBORG.  205 

He  observed  that  the  angels  at  once  discovered  a  man's 
autobiography  in  his  structure  : 

"  When  a  man's  deeds  are  discovered  after  death,  his  angels,  who 
are  inquisitors,  look  into  liis  face,  and  extend  their  examination  over 
his  whole  body,  beginning  with  the  fingers  of  each  hand.  I  was 
surprised  at  this,  and  the  reason  was  thus  explained  to  me  : 

"  Every  volition  and  thouglit  of  man  is  inscribed  on  his  brain ; 
for  volition  and  thought  have  their  beginnings  in  the  brain,  whence 
they  are  conveyed  to  the  bodily  members,  wherein  they  terminate. 
"Whatev^er,  therefore,  is  in  the  mind  is  in  the  brain,  and  from  the 
brain  in  the  body,  according  to  the  order  of  its  parts.  Thus  a  man 
writes  his  life  in  his  pJiysique,  and  thus  the  angels  discover  his  auto- 
biography in  his  structure." 

Is  there  not  here  the  assertion  of  a  great  scientific  truth, 
whether  it  be  a  truth  of  the  spiritual  world  or  not  ?  The  his- 
tory of  a  man  is  his  character,  and  his  character  is  written  on 
his  organization,  and  might  be  read  there  had  we  but  senses 
acute  enough  to  decipher  the  organic  letters.  There  is  not  a 
thought  of  the  mind,  not  a  feeling  of  the  heart,  not  an  aspi- 
ration of  the  soul,  not  a  passion  that  finds  vent,  not  a  deed 
which  is  done,  that  is  not  graved  with  an  unfailing  art  in  the 
structure  of  the  body ;  its  every  organ  and  the  constituent 
elements  of  each  organ  grow  to  the  fashion  of  their  exercise, 
and  there  is  nothing  covered  that  might  not  be  revealed, 
nothing  hid  that  might  not  be  known.  Is  not  this  a  high, 
solemn,  and  appalling  thought  ?  If  there  be  a  resurrection 
of  the  body,  then  the  opening  of  the  book  at  the  day  of  judg- 
ment will  be  an  unfolding  of  the  everlasting  roll  of  its  re- 
membrance ;  but  if  the  body  rise  not  again,  still  its  life  has 
not  passed  issueless,  for  every  act  has  blended  with  and  be- 
come a  part  of  the  energy  of  Nature,  increasing  or  diminish- 
ing the  evil  or  good  in  it,  and  will  never  through  all  time 
have  an  end. 

What  Swedenborg  says  concerning  the  mode  of  life  neces- 
sary in  order  to  enter  heaven,  deserves  to  be  quoted  as  an  in- 
dication of  the  practical  spirit  which  he  had  inherited  from  his 
shrewd  and  rather  worldly  father.     To  live  for  heaven  it  is 


206  ESSAYS. 

not  at  all  necessary  that  a  man  cease  to  live  outwardly  as 
others  do ;  he  may  grow  rich,  keep  a  plentiful  table,  dwell  in 
a  fine  house,  wear  splendid  apparel,  and  enjoy  the  pleasures 
of  the  world  and  the  flesh : 

"  It  is  quite  allowable  that  a  man  should  acquire  and  accumulate 
wealth,  provided  he  employ  no  cunning  or  wicked  artifice  ;  that  ho 
should  eat  and  drink  delicately,  provided  he  do  not  make  life  consist 
in  eating  and  drinking;  that  he  should  dwell  in  magnificence  accord- 
ing to  his  estate  ;  that  he  should  converse  as  others  do,  frequent 
places  of  amusement,  and  busy  himself  in  worldly  afi'airs.  There  is 
no  necessity  for  him  to  assume  a  devout  aspect,  a  sad  countenance, 
or  to  hang  his  head  ;  he  may  be  glad  and  cheerful ;  nor  is  he  com- 
pelled to  give  to  the  poor,  except  so  far  as  he  is  moved  by  aflfection. 
In  one  word,  he  may  live  outwardly  as  a  man  of  the  world,  and  such 
conduct  will  not  hinder  his  admission  to  heaven,  if  only  he  thinks 
interiorly  in  a  becoming  manner  of  God,  and  in  business  deals  right- 
eously with  his  neighbor. 

"  From  much  conversation  and  erperience  among  angels,  it  has 
been  given  me  to  know  most  certainly  that  the  rich  enter  heaven  as 
easily  as  the  poor ;  that  no  one  is  excluded  from  heaven,  because  he  has 
lived  in  abundance,  and  that  no  one  is  admitted  because  he  has  been 
poor.  Eich  and  poor  alike  have  entered  heaven,  and  many  who 
have  been  rich  enjoy  greater  glory  and  happiness  than  those  who 
have  been  poor.  The  poor  do  not  go  to  heaven  on  account  of  their 
poverty,  but  on  account  of  their  life  ;  for  whether  a  man  be  rich  or 
poor,  he  is  what  his  life  is,  and  if  he  live  well  he  is  received,  and  if 
he  live  ill  he  is  rejected." 

A  far  more  easy  and  practicable  religion  for  every-day 
life  than  the  religion  which  Swedenborg  claimed  to  have 
carried  forward  to  a  new  and  higher  development.  It  has 
been  charged  against  the  moral  precepts  of  Christianity,  as 
taught  in  the  New  Testament,  that  they  concern  them- 
selves with  suft'ering  only,  not  with  doing,  inculcating  passiv- 
ity, but  nowise  helping  in  the  active  work  of  life,  and  there- 
fore, if  carried  out  in  practice,  placing  the  good  man  entirely 
at  the  mercy  of  the  bad.  They  do  not,  it  is  said,  constitute 
a  complete  code  of  doctrine  sufficient  for  guidance  and  direc- 
tion in  the  practical  struggle  of  existence,  but  require  to  be 
supplemented  by  a  series  of  maxims  applicable  to  the  develop* 


EMANUEL  SWEDENBORG.  207 

ment  and  formation  of  character  under  the  duties  and  respon- 
sibilities of  active  life.  Certainly  it  is  not  in  the  New  Testa- 
ment that  men  find  the  principles  requisite  for  the  successful 
conduct  of  life  on  the  exchange,  at  the  bar,  in  the  senate,  or 
in  any  other  department  of  eager  competition  and  strife.  It 
would  scarcely  be  correct  to  say  that  Swedenhorg  has  fur- 
nished a  practical  code  of  morality  deriving  its  life  and  power 
from  the  morality  of  the  New  Testament ;  but  he  has  through- 
out his  writings  produced  such  a  mass  of  sound  criticism  and 
instructive  commentary  as  constitutes  an  important  contribu- 
tion to  a  practical  system  of  Christian  ethics.  He  is  inconsist- 
ent, he  contradicts  himself,  he  puts  forward  strange  and  unac- 
ceptable doctrines ;  still  his  clear  sincerity,  and  marvellous 
powers  which  he  frequently  displays  in  his  exposition  of  the 
Scriptures,  call  forth  irresistibly  a  feeling  of  admiration,  and 
almost  constrain,  not  a  belief  in  his  spiritual  pretensions, 
but  an  acquiescence  in  Emerson's  description  of  him  as  a 
colossal  soul,  "  one  of  the  mastodons  of  literature."  It  would 
be  impossible,  by  the  quotations  which  we  are  able  to  make 
here,  to  give  a  faithful  idea  of  his  moral  reflections  and  script- 
ural commentaries  ;  while  reading  some  of  them  one  is  con- 
strained to  look  back  from  time  to  time  to  his  history,  and  to 
the  character  of  some  of  his  other  writings,  in  order  to  recall 
the  madness  of  his  pretensions.  The  extract  which  follows, 
dealing  with  the  scriptural  maxim  to  love  your  neighbor  as 
yourself,  will  serve  to  show  the  characteristically  practical 
turn  which  Swedenborg  gives  to  it.  It  is  not  the  individual 
who  is  to  be  loved,  but  the  goodness  and  truth  in  him  that 
are  to  be  loved : 

"  Set  before  you  three  persons,  or  ten,  whom  you  may  be  selecting 
for  some  domestic  office,  and  what  other  criterion  have  you  but  the 
goodness  and  truth  which  are  in  them  ?  Man  is  man  from  goodness 
and  truth.  Or,  if  you  are  selecting  one  or  two  to  enter  your  service, 
do  you  not  inquire  into  the  will  and  intellect  of  each  ?  The  neighbor 
you  can  love  will  be  the  one  you  will  choose  on  this  occasion.  A 
Man  Devil  may  present  the  same  appearance  as  a  Man  Angel.  Bene- 
fiting the  Man  Angel  for  the  sake  of  goodness  and  truth  in  him, 
and  not  benefiting  the  Man  Devil,  is  charity  ;  for  charity  consists 


208  ESSAYS. 

in  punishing  the  Man  Devil  if  he  does  evil,  and  in  rewarding  the 
Man  Angel. 

"  A  man  is  a  neighbor  according  to  the  kind  and  measure  of  his 
goodness.  "Whoever  does  not  distinguish  mankind  by  the  test  of 
goodness  may  be  deceived  in  a  thousand  instances,  and  his  charity 
confounded  and  annulled.  ...  It  is  commonly  believed  that  a  broth- 
er or  a  kinsman  is  more  a  neighbor  than  a  stranger,  and  a  fellow- 
countryman  than  a  foreigner ;  but  birth  does  not  make  one  person 
more  a  neighbor  than  another,  not  even  a  father  or  a  mother,  nor 
education,  nor  kin,  nor  country.  Every  one  is  a  neighbor  according 
to  his  goodness,  be  he  Greek  or  gentile.  .  .  . 

"  Charity,  that  is  really  genuine,  is  prudent  and  wise.  Other 
charity  is  spurious,  because  merely  impulsive,  gushing  from  the  will 
without  qualification  in  the  light  of  the  understanding." 

"When  an  evil-minded  person  takes  the  coat  which  belongs 
to  another,  it  is  no  charity  to  give  him  a  cloak  also — the  char- 
ity is  to  get  him  punished  as  expeditiously  as  possible ;  and 
the  worst  use  to  put  great  possessions  to  is  to  sell  them  in 
order  to  give  to  the  poor,  merely  because  they  are  poor. 
Such  is  the  evolution  to  which  the  passive  morality  of  Christi- 
anity comes  in  the  church  of  the  New  Jerusalem ;  and  it  is 
not  improbable  that  some  of  those  conscientious  men  who  sin- 
cerely accept  Swedenborg  as  a  prophet  find  no  little  comfort 
of  mind  in  a  code  which,  while  deriving  its  inspiration  from 
the  morality  of  the  Xew  Testament,  yet  adapts  it  to  the 
exigencies  of  daily  life  in  the  world  where  the  wicked  abound, 
and  must  be  held  in  some  kind  of  subjection.  Prime-Minis- 
ter Hopken,  who  had  known  Swedenborg  for  two-and-forty 
years,  and  who  averred  that  in  all  his  experience  he  did  not 
recollect  a  character  of  more  uniform  excellence — always 
contented,  never  fretful  nor  morose — said  of  his  religion  : 

"I  have  sometimes  told  the  king  that  if  ever  a  new  colony  were 
formed,  no  better  religion  could  be  established  there  than  that  devel- 
oped by  Swedenborg  from  the  Sacred  Scriptures,  and  for  these  rea- 
Bons : 

"  I.  This  religion,  in  preference  to,  and  in  a  higher  degree  than 
any  other,  must  produce  the  mo.^t  honest  and  industrious  subjects; 
for  it  places,  and  places  properly,  tJie  worslivp  of  God  in  u^es. 

"  11.  It  causes  t^e  least  fear  of  death;  death  being  regarded  mere- 


EMANUEL  SWEDENBORG.  209 

(f  as  a  transition  from  one  state  to  another,  from  a  worse  to  a  better 
Bituation.  Upon  his  principles,  I  look  upon  death  as  of  hardly- 
greater  consequence  than  drinking  a  glass  of  water." 

One  virtue  of  Swedeuborg,  wluch  lie  shares  with  Bacon 
and  Goethe,  and  which  should  be  made  mention  of  here,  waa 
that  he  detested,  and  gave  vigorous  expression  to  his  detesta- 
tion of,  metaphysics,  as  barren  and  fallacious,  transcending 
the  sphere  of  thought,  and  by  means  of  which  theology  had 
been  drawn  from  its  simplicity  and  made  artificial  and  cor- 
rupt. It  was  seldom  that  his  ])ractical  instincts  deserted  him  ; 
he  was  certainly  not,  in  any  just  sense  of  the  word,  a  mystic. 

Thus  much  as  to  the  revelation  which  Swedenborg  makes 
ol  himself  in  his  writings.  It  will  be  interesting,  before  con- 
cluding, to  ascertain  the  sort  of  impression  which  he  pro- 
duced on  those  who  had  personal  intercourse  with  him.  Un- 
fortunately, the  principal  information  which  we  have  on  this 
point  comes  from  those  who  have  been  specially  interested  in 
giving  it,  and  whose  testimony  is  not  free  from  the  bias  of 
their  belief  in  his  pretensions.  Stories  in  confirmation  of  his 
miraculous  powers  are  related  as  wonderful  and  true,  while 
stories  discrediting  them  are  put  down  as  false  and  spiteful. 
The  vulgar  notion  that  a  madman  must  be  incoherent,  or 
dangerous,  or  furious,  prepared  those  who  had  read  his  ex- 
traordinary revelations  to  find  something  strange  in  his  be- 
havior ;  and  when  they  were  introduced  to  a  calm  and  cour- 
teous old  gentleman,  who  conversed  sensibly  on  all  ordinary 
subjects  and  related  his  extraordinary  spiritual  experiences 
with  a  quiet  and  assured  confidence,  they  were  naturally  sur- 
prised, and  found  it  hard  to  believe  that  his  stories  had  not 
some  real  foundation.  How  little  warranted  by  facts  such  a 
conclusion  was,  an  hour's  experience  in  a  lunatic  asylum 
would  have  proved  to  them.  Then,  again,  it  is  not  likely  that 
any  one,  not  particularly  interested  in  him,  would  be  at  the 
pains  to  put  on  record  their  experience  of  him.  Mrs.  Cottle 
is  constantly  publishing  extraordinary  interpretations  of 
Scripture,  and  distributing  them  far  and  wide,  as  Sweden- 
borg distributed  his  books  to  bishops,  deans,  clergy,  univer- 


210  ESSAYS. 

sities,  and  persons  of  eminence  in  different  countries  ;  but  no 
one  thinks  it  worth  while  to  enter  upon  a  formal  refutation 
of  Mrs.  Cottle,  or  to  record  for  the  benefit  of  generations  to 
come  their  opinion  of  her  lunacj.  What  is  self-evident  needs 
no  demonstration.  When  we  do  happen  to  get  the  evidence 
of  disinterested  witnesses,  who  had  had  opportunities  of 
lengthened  observation,  it  proves  that  the  suspicion  of  mad- 
ness was  excited  by  his  singular  behavior.  On  one  of  his 
voyages  from  Sweden  to  England,  when  he  had  kept  his 
berth  almost  the  whole  time,  and  had  been  often  heard 
speaking  as  if  in  conversation,  the  steward  and  cabin-boy  in- 
formed the  captain  that  their  passenger  was  out  of  his  mind. 
"  Out  of  his  mind  or  not,"  said  the  captain,  "  as  long  as  he  is 
quiet  I  have  no  power  over  him.  He  is  always  reasonable 
with  me,  and  I  have  the  best  of  weather  when  he  is  aboard." 
Those  that  go  down  to  the  sea  in  ships  are  not  free  from  su- 
perstition, and  Swedenborg's  presence  on  board  seems  to 
have  been  thought  lucky,  as  associated  with  a  quick  passage. 
At  one  time  he  appears  to  have  run  some  danger  of  being  sent 
to  a  lunatic  asylum,  his  nephew  Bishop  Filenius  and  some 
of  the  clergy  having  entertained  the  idea  on  account  of  the 
oifence  which  his  heretical  doctrines  were  to  the  established 
religion.  Happily  the  design,  if  it  were  ever  seriously  enter- 
tained, came  to  naught :  it  would  have  been  a  great  pity  and 
a  greater  injustice  had  it  been  carried  into  eifect.  Neither 
science  nor  philosophy  had  yet  apprehended  all  things  that 
are  in  heaven  and  earth,  and  it  is  always  well,  therefore,  to 
examine  without  prejudice,  rather  than  to  suppress  with 
hasty  violence,  any  novel  opinions,  however  strange  and  in- 
credible they  may  seem.  The  history  of  the  progress  of 
knowledge  is  a  history  of  the  incredible  becoming  credible, 
of  the  strange  being  found  true. 

For  a  short  time,  in  1761,  Swedenborg  took  an  active  part, 
as  a  member  of  the  House  of  ISTobles,  in  the  deliberations  of 
the  Swedish  diet.  He  evinced  great  interest  in  the  questions 
which  were  discussed,  spoke  with  credit  to  himself,  and  waa 
listened  to  with  respect ;  but  soon  perceiving,  as  he  thought. 


EMANUEL  SWEDENBORG.  211 

tliat  envy,  liatred,  and  self-seeking,  prevailed  among  the  mem- 
bers, he  became  dissatisfied,  and  ceased  to  attend.  Instead 
of  living  and  laboring  among  men,  helping  by  patient  en- 
durance and  wise  insight  to  guide  and  lead  them  in  the  right 
way — being  in  the  world,  if  not  of  it — he  retired  to  his  medi- 
tations and  visions,  where  he  had  matters  all  his  own  way. 
Thus  he  abandoned  a  life  of  action,  whereby  the  just  balance 
of  the  faculties  is  maintained,  and  went  willingly  the  way  of 
his  madness. 

When  in  Sweden  he  lived  in  a  small  house,  which  he  had 
built  himself  in  one  of  the  suburbs  of  Stockholm,  his  servants 
being  a  gardener  and  his  wife,  who  lived  in  the  house.  He 
gave  very  little  trouble,  his  diet  being  very  simple ;  he  mado 
his  own  cofi'ee,  which  he  drank  freely  day  and  night,  and  his 
dinner  was  usually  a  small  loaf  broken  into  boiled  milk.  He 
slept  between  blankets,  not  liking  sheets,  and,  as  he  informed 
the  Eev.  A.  Ferelius,  "never  washed  his  face  or  hands,  and 
never  brushed  his  clothes,  for  no  dirt  or  dust  would  stick  to 
him."  His  bodily  health  was  usually  good  ;  sometimes,  how- 
ever, he  suffered  from  severe  toothache,  which  he  attributed 
to  hypocritical  spirits  who  beset  him.  On  one  occasion  Paul 
was  the  wicked  spirit  that  thus  troubled  him.  A  most  wicked 
adulterer  was  with  him  some  days,  and  produced  pains  in 
the  toes  of  his  left  foot,  loins,  and  breast.  Devils  tried  to 
enter  his  brain  and  kill  him,  but  the  Lord  saved  him.  So  it 
was  with  other  pains,  which  ceased  when  the  evil  spirits 
which  induced  them  were  routed.  He  paid  little  regard  to 
day  and  night,  sometimes  sleeping  through  the  one  and  work- 
ing through  the  other,  and  he  would  occasionally  lie  in  bed 
entranced  for  days  together.  He  was  often  heard  talking 
aloud  in  the  night,  and  when  asked  what  had  been  the  -mat 
ter,  Avould  answer  that  evil  spirits  had  blasphemed,  and  that 
he  was  speaking  against  them  zealously. 

"  Sometimes  he  would  weep  bitterly,  and  cry,  with  a  loud  voice, 
'Lord,  help  me  !  0  Lord,  my  God,  forsake  me  not ! '  When  seen 
in  these  states,  he  appeared  as  sick.  When  delivered  from  them,  ha 
would  say,  '  God  be  eternally  praised !    All  suffering  has  passed 


212  ESSAYS. 

awav.    Be  comforted,  my  friends  :  nothing  haj>pens  to  me  -which  the 
Lord  does  not  permit.' 

"  After  one  of  these  trials,  he  -went  to  bed  and  did  not  rise  for 
several  days.  His  servants  grew  imeasy ;  perhaps  he  had  died  of 
fright ;  and  thev  debated  whether  they  should  not  summon  his  rela- 
tives, and  force  open  the  door.  At  length  the  gardener  climbed  to  the 
window,  and,  to  his  great  relief,  saw  his  master  turn  in  bed.  Kext 
day  he  rang  the  bell.  The  wife  went  to  the  room,  and  related  how 
anxious  they  had  been,  to  which  he  cheerfully  replied  he  had  been 
very  well,  and  had  wanted  for  nothing." 

He  "was  accessible  and  affable  to  visitors,  M-omen  excepted.* 
and  talked  freely  concerning  his  intercourse  with  the  spiritual 
■world,  speaking  with  such  an  air  of  gravity  and  sincerity  as 
prevented  any  unbecoming  display  of  incredulity.  Neverthe- 
less, he  exhibited  considerable  shrewdness  in  evading  at- 
tempts on  the  part  of  believers  to  obtain  a  positive  test  of 
his  wonderful  powers.  A  certain  student  of  Upsal,  Xicolas 
Collin,  who,  having  read  his  books  with  admiration,  visited 
him.  requested  as  a  great  favor  that  he  would  procure  him 
an  interview  with  his  brother  who  bad  died  a  few  months 
before.  Swedenborg  inquired  what  his  motives  were  for  de- 
siring such  a  communication.  "  I  confessed  I  had  none  be- 
sides gratifying  brotherly  affection,  and  an  ardent  wish  to  ex- 
plore a  scene  so  sublime  and  interesting  to  a  serious  mind. 
He  replied  that  my  motives  were  good,  but  not  suflBcient ; 
that  if  any  important  spiritual  or  temporal  concern  of  mine 
had  been  the  case,  he  would  then  have  solicited  permission 
from  the  angels,  who  regulate  those  matters."  Lavater,  who 
wrote  to  him  from  Zurich  with  great  respect  and  sincerity, 
putting  four  definite  questions  which  he  was  eager  to  have 
answered,  was  not  more  successful.  Swedenborg  did  not 
reply  to  the  letter;  and  a  second  letter,  similarly  earnest  and 
pressing,  wliich  Lavater  sent,  was  also  left  unanswered,  not- 
withstanding the  profound  expression  of  reverence  and  the 
urgent  entreaty  which  it  contained.     To  a  minister  of  state 

♦He  would  see  no  lady  alone,  asserting  that  "women  are  artful  and  mi^ht 
pretend  that  I  sought  their  closer  ac/juainiance."'  Evidently  he  had  not  failed  tc 
profit  by  the  mistress-keeping  experience  of  his  younger  days. 


EMANUEL  SWEDENBORG.  213 

who  applied  to  him  for  information  concerning  a  certain 
young  prince  who  had  disappeared,  without  any  one  know- 
ing what  had  become  of  him,  he  replied  that  the  prince  was 
in  a  society  of  the  spiritual  world  to  which  he  could  not 
readily  gain  admission ;  that  the  angels  had  no  knowledge 
of  his  state  ;  and  that  the  matter  was  not  of  sufficient  impor- 
tance to  warrant  an  application  to  the  Lord  about  it.  Pro- 
fusely liberal  in  his  revelations  when  there  was  no  oppor- 
tunity of  checking  his  stories,  he  evaded  such  direct  ques- 
tions as  would  have  brought  his  pretensions  to  the  test  of 
experiment.  It  is,  as  it  ever  has  been,  a  circumstance  inci- 
dental to  manifestations  of  the  supernatural  that  they  fail  to 
take  place  just  when,  in  order  to  confound  the  skeptical,  they 
ought  to  take  place,  and  that  they  are  needlessly  abundant 
in  the  presence  of  those  who  are  so  full  of  faith  that  they  do 
not  require  to  be  convinced  in  order  to  testify  of  them.  No 
wonder,  then,  that  so  many  persons  who  find  it  nowise  con- 
trary to  the  order  of  Nature  to  believe  in  the  existence  of 
fanatics,  madmen,  and  impostors,  claiming  supernatural  pow- 
ers and  witnessing  to  supernatural  stories,  do  find  it  alto- 
gether contrary  to  their  experience  of  the  order  of  Nature  to 
believe  in  supernatural  events. 

About  the  beginning  of  August,  1771,  Swedenborg  visited 
England  for  the  last  time.  He  took  possession  of  the  lodg- 
ings in  Cold  Bath  Fields  which  he  had  occupied  on  a  former 
occasion,  at  the  house  of  one  Richard  Shearsmith,  a  wig-maker. 
There,  on  Christmas  Eve,  he  had  a  stroke  of  apoplexy  which 
deprived  him  of  the  power  of  speech  and  produced  paralysis 
of  one  side.  From  this  attack  he  rallied  for  a  time,  recovering 
his  speech;  but  on  the  29th  of  March,  1772,  he  gently  expired, 
having,  it  is  said,  predicted  on  wliat  day  he  should  die.  "He 
was  as  pleased,"  said  the  servant,  "  as  I  should  have  been  if  I 
was  going  to  have  a  holiday,  or  going  to  some  merry-making." 

Thus  passed  over  to  the  silent  majority  one  the  story  of 
whose  life,  notwithstanding  the  eccentricities  which  it  ex- 
poses, cannot  fail  to  excite  a  kindly  interest.  There  would 
be  no  advantage,  but  on  the  contrary  a  certainty  of  misinter* 
10 


214  ESSAYS. 

pretation,  in  attempting  to  make  a  summary  estimate  of  hi* 
character;  this  is  best  exhibited  in  the  history  of  his  life. 
The  trLth  assuredly  lies  in  the  mean  between  the  opposing 
views  taken  of  him.  On  the  one  hand,  there  are  those  who 
see  in  him  an  inspired  seer,  and  stubbornly  refuse  to  see  any 
insanity ;  on  the  other  hand,  there  are  those  who  see  only 
the  insanity,  and  dismiss  him  with  pity  or  contempt.  There 
is  truth  in  both  these  extreme  opinions,  error  in  both  of 
them.  That  Swedenborg  did,  as  he  asserted,  enter  the 
spiritual  world  and  have  daily  intercourse  with  angels  there, 
and  see  and  hear  the  things  which  he  declared  that  he  saw 
and  heard,  is  an  opinion  which  it  would  be  a  humiliation 
and  shame  to  discuss  seriously  in  this  century,  unless  some 
reason  can  be  given  for  supposing  that  all  the  delusions  of 
insanity  are  broken  glimpses  of  a  higher  region  of  existence 
than  our  sound  senses  can  take  cognizance  of.  In  that  case, 
however,  it  might  still  be  open  to  dispute  whether  Sweden- 
borg's  heaven  discovers  any  higher  scenes  and  events,  or  a 
more  exalted  order  of  beings,  than  the  world  in  which  we 
live ;  for  it  seems  truly  rather  d  vulgar  and  a  commonplace 
invention,  such  as  any  person  of  oj'dinary  ingenuity  giving 
the  rein  to  his  fancy,  and  untroubled  by  any  doubt  of  him- 
self, might  easily  imagine.  Certainly  there  is  nothing  in  his 
revelation  which  by  its  inherent  power  and  grandeur  inti- 
mates even,  much  less  testifies  to,  a  superhuman  insight; 
nothing  which  is  inconsistent  or  incompatible  with  the  wild 
imaginations  of  a  person  the  balance  of  whose  faculties  has 
been  lost.  Like  the  painter's  picture  of  a  lion  beneath  which 
it  was  necessary  to  write  "  This  is  a  lion,"  Swedenborg's 
representation  of  the  spiritual  world  needs  a  like  inscription 
in  order  to  be  known.  Looking  simply  to  the  intellectual 
power  displayed  in  its  manufacture,  we  are  bound  to  ac- 
knowledge that  it  cannot  be  compared  for  a  moment  with 
that  which  is  exhibited  in  a  drama  of  Shakespeare,  or  even 
with  that  which  we  may  recognize  in  a  superior  novel.  Com- 
pare the  visions  of  Swedenborg,  who  had  so  many  times 
been  in  heaven,  with  the  visions  of  Dante,  "  the  man  who 


[  EMANUEL  SWEDENBORG.  215 

had  seen  hell ;  "  do  they  not  show  by  the  side  of  these  like 
the  wild,  dreary,  and  incoherent  flights  of  a  dreaming  or  a 
delirious  imagination?  How  immeasurably  below  the  true 
and  noble  creations  of  a  great  imagination,  rightly  cultivated, 
working  calmly  under  the  restraints  of  law,  and  revealing  its 
insight  and  strength  in  its  repose  and  self-control !  Consider 
the  ridiculous  height  to  which  Swedenborg  exalts  himself; 
he  is  as  much  superior  to  the  inhabitants  of  heaven  as  he  is 
to  the  dwellers  upon  earth,  for,  while  possessing,  as  a  natural 
man,  all  the  privileges  of  spiritual  insight  which  the  angels 
have,  and  easily  surpassing  them  In  spiritual  knowledge,  he 
can  in  a  moment  become  invisible  to  them,  by  returning  to  his 
natural  self.  That  he  has  found  disciples  who  devoutly  accept 
to  the  uttermost  these  pretensions  proves  that  it  is  impossible 
to  be  too  bold  in  speculating  on  the  credulity  of  mankind. 

On  the  other  hand,  it  cannot  be  denied  that  among  the 
many  absurd  things  he  has  written,  there  are  also  many 
words  of  wisdom,  fruitful  veins  of  original  thought,  and  pas- 
sages profoundly  suggestive  even  to  the  best  of  minds.  Be- 
cause a  man's  mind  is  unsound,  all  which  he  says  is  not, 
therefore,  folly.  It  is  a  vulgar  and  mischievous  error,  spring- 
ing from  the  grossest  ignorance  of  insanity,  to  suppose  that  a 
person  who  speaks  rationally  and  behaves  with  propriety 
cannot  be  mad,  as  it  is  also  to  suppose  madmen  necessarily 
incapable  of  rational  intellectual  exertion;  athwart  the 
murky  atmosphere  of  madness  lightning-flashes  of  the  deepest 
insight  occasionally  shoot,  and  the  light  of  genius  is  some- 
times only  the  light  of  a  falling  star.  The  recognition  of 
Swedenborg's  hallucinations  and  delusions,  and  the  rejection 
of  the  cardinal  doctrines  of  his  later  years,  on  the  ground  of 
insanity,  by  no  means  warrant  the  rejection  of  all  that  he  has 
developed  from  his  false  premises  or  engrafted  on  them. 
Moreover,  though  he  was  insane,  he  was  capable  of  taking 
care  of  himself  sufficiently  well,  and  of  managing  his  affairs 
with  prudence. 

Perhaps  it  was  fortunate  for  the  prophet  of  the  Church  of 
the  iTew  Jerusalem  that  he  lived  in  Sweden,  and  in  the  last 


216  ESSAYS. 

eentarv ;  for,  had  he  lived  at  the  present  day  in  England,  it  is 
very  donbtfiil  whether  he  would  have  been  left  in  undisturbed 
possession  of  his  freedom  and  his  property.  There  might, 
indeed,  have  been  no  small  danger  of  the  extinction  of  his 
prophetic  mission  in  a  lunatic  asylum.  "Whether  the  world 
would  have  suffered  loss,  or  gained  any  thing  by  the  violent 
suppression  of  his  doctrines,  are  questions  concerning  which 
conjectures  must  be  futile;  but  my  conviction  unquestionably 
is  that  it  would  have  suffered  loss.  In  truth,  no  one  has  yet 
sufficiently  considered  how  much  originality  and  individual- 
ity are  systematically  suppressed  in  lunatic  asylums,  and  how 
hard  it  would  have  gone  with  some  of  the  most  distinguished 
reformers  of  past  generations  if  their  lots  had  been  cast  in 
these  days  when  there  are  scattered  over  the  land  so  many 
overgrown  and  overcrowded  asylums.  Can  any  one,  after 
reading  the  Journal  of  George  Fox,  believe  that  he  would  not, 
had  he  lived  now,  have  found  his  way  into  a  lunatic  asylum  ? 
Thus  would  Quakerism  have  been  blasted  in  its  germ,  and  the 
world  robbed  of  all  the  benefit  which  it  has  reaped  from  that 
form  of  religious  belief.  Of  autobiographies,  one  of  the  most 
interesting  is  the  autobiography  of  Benveniito  Cellini,  but  the 
perusal  of  it  cannot  fail  to  convince  a  candid  reader  that  Ben- 
venuto  Cellini,  had  he  lived  now,  would  have  been  shut  up  in 
a  lunatic  asylum  long  before  he  had  produced  his  finest  work 
of  art.  Had  not  Comte  been  removed  from  Esquirol's  asylum 
when  there  seemed  no  prospect  of  his  recovery,  and  taken 
home  to  the  care  of  his  wife,  it  may  be  deemed  certain  that 
the  world  would  never  have  had  the  system  of  the  Positive 
Philosophy.  The  power  of  the  stepping  out  of  the  beaten 
track  of  thought,  of  bursting  by  a  happy  inspiration  through 
the  bonds  of  habit  and  originating  a  new  line  of  reflection,  is 
most  rare,  and  should  bo  welcomed  and  profited  by,  in  spite 
of  its  oftentimes  becoming  extravagant,  and  sometimes  de- 
generating into  the  vagaries  of  insanity.  The  individuals  who 
manifest  these  impulses  of  development  may  not  see  their 
true  relations,  and  may  carry  them  to  a  ridiculous  extreme : 
but  they  are  still,  perhaps,  the  unconscious  organs  of  a  new 


EMANUEL   SWEDExVBORG.  217 

birth  of  thought,  which  shall  plant  itself  and  become  largely- 
fruitful  in  the  minds  of  others  possessed  of  a  larger  philo- 
sophic capacity,  but  not,  perhaps,  capable  of  the  originating  in- 
spiration ;  for  the  men  who  perceive  and  coordinate  the  ten- 
dencies of  development  are  not  commonl  j  the  men  who  origi- 
nate them.  The  originality  is  truly  an  inspiration,  coming 
we  know  not  whence,  and  the  very  opposite  in  action  to  that 
power  of  habit  which  enthralls  the  mental  life  of  the  majority 
of  mankind.  There  are  antagonistic  forces  at  work  in  the 
determination  of  the  orbit  of  human  thought  as  there  are  ip 
the  determination  of  the  orbits  of  the  planets — a  centrifugal 
or  revolutionary  force  giving  the  expansive  impulse  of  new 
ideas,  and  a  centripetal  or  conservative  force  manifest  in  the 
restraining  influence  of  habit ;  the  resultant  of  their  opposing 
actions  being  the  determination  of  the  orbit  of  the  evolution 
of  mind.  Is  it  not,  then,  beyond  measure  sad  to  think  that  pre- 
cious germs  of  originality  may  be  blighted  by  the  practice,  too 
prevalent  in  this  era,  of  treating  as  insanity  any  marked  devia- 
tion from  the  common  standard  of  thought  or  action?  Na- 
ture, we  know,  shows  a  most  lavish  and  reckless  waste  of  life, 
of  fifty  seeds  often  bringing  not  even  one  to  bear,  but  herein 
does  not  set  an  example  which  it  is  man's  duty  or  interest  to 
follow ;  for  the  purpose  or  nisus  of  his  being  is  to  improve 
upon  Nature,  to  carry  it  through  human  nature  to  a  higher 
evolution.  In  accomplishing  patiently  and  faithfully  this 
function  he  must  work  by  a  far  other  method  than  that 
which  self-inspired  seers  into  self-created  spiritual  worlds 
adopt;  but,  while  rejecting  their  method,  he  may  still  grate- 
fully gather  the  good  fruits  of  their  lives,  and  profit  by  the  in- 
struction which  is  to  be  obtained  from  the  study  of  even  the 
most  erratic  orbits.  Now,  as  ever,  and  forever,  it  is  true  that 
the  wrath,  the  folly,  the  madness  of  men  are  made  to  praise 
Him  whom  sun  and  moon,  fire  and  heat,  winter  and  summer, 
mountains  and  hills,  seas  and  floods,  the  green  things  of  tho 
earth,  and  the  holy  and  humble  men  of  heart,  bless,  praise,  and 
magnify  forever,  but  whom  systems  of  theology  and  the 
prophets  thereof  have  so  much  misrepresented  and  degraded. 


I 


m.— THE  THEORY  OF  VITALITY.* 

It  lias  been  the  cnstom  of  certain  disciples  of  the  so- 
called  Positive  Philosophy  to  repudiate  as  extravagant  the 
well-known  opinion  of  Protagoras,  that  man  was  the  meas- 
ure of  the  universe.  If  the  proposition  be  understood  of 
man  as  he  is  known  to  himself  by  the  revelations  of  self- 
consciousness,  there  is  unquestionably  great  reason  for  its 
rejection  ;  but,  if  it  be  applied  to  him  as  an  objective  study, 
it  is  manifest  that  modern  science  is  tending  to  prove  it  by 
no  means  so  absurd  as  it  has  been  sometimes  deemed.  Day 
by  day,  indeed,  is  it  becoming  more  and  more  clear  that,  as 
Sir  T.  Browne  has  it,  man  "  parallels  Nature  in  the  cosmog- 
raphy of  himself;"  that,  in  truth,  "we  are  that  bold  and 
adventurous  piece  of  IsTature  which  he  that  studies  wisely 
learns  in  a  compendium  what  others  labor  at  in  a  divided 
piece  and  endless  volume."  t  The  "  heaven-descended  yyuOi 
aeavrSp  "  acquires  new  value  as  a  maxim  inculcating  on  man 
the  objective  study  of  himself. 

The  earliest  cultivators  of  Grecian  philosophy — Thales, 
Anaximenes,  and  Diogenes  of  Apollonia — did  seek  objec- 
tively for  the  apxf]  or  first  principle  of  things  common  to 
man  and  the  rest  of  Nature.  This  primitive  kind  of  induc- 
tion was  soon,  however,  abandoned  for  the  easier  and  speed- 
ier deduction  from  the  subjective  facts  of  consciousness ;  so 
that,  as  the  German  philosopher  is  said  to  have  done  with 

*  British  and  Foreign  Medico- Chir.  Review,  No.  64, 1863. 
t  Beligio  Medici. 


I 


THE  THEORY  OF  VITALITY.  219 

tliG  elephant,  man  constructed  the  laws  of  an  external  world 
out  of  the  depths  of  his  own  consciousness.  Because  an  in- 
dividual was  conscious  of  certain  passions  which  influenced 
his  conduct,  he  fancied  that  natural  bodies  were  affected  in 
their  relations  to  one  another  by  like  passions.  Hence  the 
phenomena  of  Nature  were  explained  by  sympathies,  antip- 
athies, loves,  discords :  oil  had  an  antipathy  to  water ; 
Nature  abhorred  a  vacuum ;  Love  was  the  creative  force 
which  produced  development  and  harmony ;  Hate,  the  de- 
structive force  which  produced  disorder  and  discord.  The 
method  was  only  a  phase  of  the  anthropomorphism  by  which 
the  Dryad  was  placed  in  the  tree,  the  Naiad  in  the  fountain, 
and  the  gods  of  mankind  were  created  by  man. 

The  result  of  such  a  method  was  inevitable.  "When  in  a 
language  there  is  but  one  word  for  two  or  three  different 
meanings,  as  happens  in  all  languages  before  the  cultivation 
of  science — when,  for  example,  the  loadstone  is  said  to  attract 
iron,  the  earth  to  attract  heavy  bodies,  the  plant  to  attract 
moisture,  and  one  mind  to  attract  another,  without  further 
differentiation — tliere  necessarily  is  an  ambiguity  about 
words;  disputes  thereupon  arise,  and  the  unavoidable  issue 
is  sophistry  and  sophists.  That  was  a  result  which  the  in- 
genious and  active  mind  of  Greece  soon  reached.  In  scien- 
tific nomenclature  it  is  constantly  becoming  necessary  to  dis- 
card words  which  are  in  common  use,  because  of  their  vague- 
ness and  want  of  precision;  for  as  it  is  with  life  objectively, 
and  as  it  is  with  cognition  or  life  subjectively,  so  must  it  be 
with  the  language  in  which  the  phenomena  are  expressed. 
A  scientific  nomenclature  must  rightly  present  a  progress 
from  the  general  to  the  special,  must  reflect  in  its  increasing 
specialization  the  increased  specialization  of  human  adapta- 
tion to  external  Nature.  As  might  be  expected,  Plato  and 
Aristotle  both  recognized  the  evil  in  Greece,  and  both  tried 
to  check  it.  The  metaphysics,  analytics,  etc.,  of  the  latter 
have  been  described  as  a  dictionary  of  general  terms,  "  the 
process  throughout  being  first  to  discover  and  establish  defi- 


220  THE   THEORY 

nite  meanings,  and  then  to  appropriate  to  each  a  several 
word."  *  But  it  is  in  vain  to  attempt  to  establish  words  ex- 
cept as  living  outgrowths  of  actual  facts  in  ISTature.  The 
method  was  a  mistaken  one ;  there  was  not  an  intending  of 
the  mind  to  the  realities  of  external  Xature,  and  knowledge 
was  barren,  wanting  those  "fruits  and  invented  works" 
which  Bacon  pronounces  to  be,  as  it  were,  "  sponsors  and 
sureties  for  the  truth  of  philosophy." 

Much  the  same  thing  happened  in  the  earlier  part  of  the 
Middle  Ages.  The  mysticism  and  sophistry  which  then  pre- 
vailed, the  endless  and  unprofitable  but  learned  and  ingenious 
disputes  concerning  empty  propositions  and  words  which  had 
no  definite  meanings,  might  be  said  to  represent  the  wasted 
eflforts  and  unavailing  strength  of  a  blind  giant.  But  as  the 
infant,  moved  by  an  internal  impulse,  at  first  strives  uncon- 
sciously for  its  mother's  breast  and  draws  its  nourishment 
therefrom,  gradually  awakening  thereby  to  a  consciousness 
of  the  mother  who  supplies  it,  so  the  human  mind  for  a  time 
gathered  unconsciously  the  material  of  its  knowledge  from 
Nature,  until  it  was  gradually  awakened  to  a  full  conscious- 
ness of  the  fruitful  bosom  which  was  supplying  it.  The  al- 
chemist, moved  by  his  avarice  and  the  instinct  of  a  unity  in 
Nature,  and  the  astrologer,  moved  by  the  feeling  of  a  destiny 
governing  human  actions,  both  lighted  on  treasures  which, 
though  not  then  appreciated,  were  yet  not  lost;  for  of  astrol- 
ogy came  astronomy,  and  from  alchemy,  in  the  fulness  of 
time,  was  born  chemistry.  In  Roger  Bacon,  who  successfully 
interrogated  Nature  in  the  spirit  of  the  inductive  method,  we 

*  Coleridge's  Literary  Correspondence.  It  i?  for  this  attempt,  praise- 
worthy surely  as  far  as  it  went,  that  Bacon  is  unduly  severe  upon  Aristotle 
in  some  parts.  Thus :  "  And  herein  I  cannot  a  littie  marvel  at  the  philoso- 
pher Aristotle  that  did  proceed  in  such  a  spirit  of  difference  and  coutradic* 
tion  toward  all  antiquity,  undertaking  not  only  to  form  new  words  of  sci- 
ence at  pleasure,  but  to  confound  and  extinguish  all  ancient  wisdom."  (De 
Augmentis  Scientiarum.)  And  again :  "  Aristotle,  as  though  he  had  been 
Of  the  race  of  the  Ottomans,  thought  he  could  not  reign  except  the  first  thing 
he  did  he  killed  all  his  brethi-en."    (Ibid.) 


\ 


OF  VITALITY.  221 

see  the  human  mind  instinctively  and,  as  it  were,  uncon- 
sciously striving  after  the  true  source  of  knowledge ;  while  in 
the  Chancellor  Bacon,  who  established  the  principles  and 
systematized  the  rules  of  the  inductive  philosophy,  we  see 
It  awakened  to  a  clear  apprehension  of  the  necessity  of  doing 
with  design  and  method  that  which  in  an  imperfect  manner 
it  had  for  some  time  been  blindly  aiming  at.  But  as  it  is 
with  the  infant,  so  it  is  with  humanity :  action  preceded  con- 
sciousness, and  Bacon  was  the  efflux  of  a  spirit  which  pre- 
vailed, and  not  the  creator  of  it. 

The  method  of  investigation  has  accordingly  been  com- 
pletely reversed.  Instead  of  beginning  with  himself  and 
passing  thence  to  external  Xature,  man  begins  with  Nature 
and  ends  with  himself;  he  is  the  complex  to  which  his  in- 
vestigations ascend  step  by  step  through  progressively  in- 
creasing complications  of  the  simple.  Not  only  so,  but  the 
necessity  of  studying  himself  objectively  is  fully  recognized ; 
it  is  not  the  subjective  feeling  of  heat  or  cold  in  a  feverish 
patient,  but  the  figure  at  which  the  thermometer  stands,  that 
is  now  appealed  to  as  the  trustworthy  index  of  the  real  tem- 
perature. The  development  of  the  senses,  or,  in  other  words, 
the  increased  specialty  of  human  adaptation  to  external  Na- 
ture, has  been,  as  the  progress  of  science  proves,  the  founda- 
tion of  intellectual  advance ;  the  understanding  has  been  de- 
veloped through  the  senses,  and  has  in  turn  constructed  in- 
struments for  extending  the  action  of  the  senses.*  The  tele- 
scope has  merely  been  a  means  for  enabling  the  eye  to  pene- 
trate into  distant  space,  and  to  observe  the  motions  of  worlds 
which  the  unaided  vision  would  never  have  revealed  ;  by  the 
microscope  the  minute  structure  of  tissues  and  the  history  of 

*  A  great  desideratum  is  a  history  of  sucli  development  of  the  senses  : 
"  Wir  besitzen  gar  treffliche  Werke  Hber  die  Geschichte  von  Schlacbten 
nnd  Staatsformen,  genaue  Tagebucher  von  KSnigen  und  fleissige  Verzeich- 
Bisse  von  den  SchOpfungen  der  Dichter.  Aber  den  wichtigsten  Beitrag  za 
einer  Bildungsgeschichte  des  Menschen  In  der  eingreifendsten  Bedeutnng 
des  Wortes  hat  noch  Niemand  geliefert.  Una  fehlt  eine  Entwlckelung* 
geschichte  der  Sinne."— Moleschott,  Kreislauf  des  Lebens. 


222  THE  THEORY 

the  little  world  of  the  organic  cell  have  been  made  known  ; 
the  balance  has  demonstrated  the  indestructibility  of  matter, 
and  has  supplied  to  science  the  exactness  of  the  numerical 
method;  and,  in  the  electric  stream,  there  has  been  found  a 
means  of  investigating  nerve-action,  like  that  which  there  ia 
in  polarized  light  for  ascertaining  the  internal  condition  of 
crystallized  bodies.  Who  would  have  ventured  to  predict 
some  time  since  that  it  would  ever  be  possible  to  measure 
the  speed  at  which  an  impulse  of  the  will  travels  along  the 
nerves  ?  *  And  who  will  venture  to  say  that  it  will  not  at  a 
future  time  be  possible  to  measure  the  velocity  with  which 
one  idea  calls  up  another  in  the  brain  ?  Biology  must  plainly 
of  necessity  be  the  last  and  most  difficult  study,  for  it  pre- 
supposes the  other  sciences  as  vital  force  supposes  inferior 
forces;  but  it  is  the  evident  tendency  of  advancing  knowl- 
edge to  bring  life  more  and  more  within  the  compass  of  sci- 
entific investigation.  And  if  it  be  sometimes  made  a  reproach 
to  science,  as  it  was  by  Comte,  that  it  has  not  discovered  the 
laws  of  life,  it  may  well  rest  calm  under  the  censure,  point- 

*  Snch  an  eminent  physiologist  as  Miiller  could  venture  to  predict  the 
impossibility  thereof.  In  his  Physiology  he  says  :  "  Wir  werden  auch  wohl 
Die  die  Mittel  gewinnen  die  Geschwindigkeit  der  Nervenwirkung  zu  ermit- 
teln  da  uns  die  Vergleich  ungeheurer  Entfernung  felht  aus  der  die  Schnel- 
ligkeit  einer  dem  Nerven  in  dieser  Hinsicht  analogen  Wirkung  des  Licht 
berechnet  ^yerden  kann."  With  which  compare  Helmholtz:  "  Ueber  die 
Methoden  kleinste  Zeittheilchen  zu  messen,"  etc.    1850. 

As  long  as  physiologists  considered  it  necessary  to  refer  the  operations 
of  the  nerves  to  the  extension  of  an  impcnderahle  or  psychical  principle,  it 
might  well  appear  incredible  that  the  rapidity  of  the  stream  should  be 
measurable  within  the  limits  of  the  animal  body.  At  present  we  know, 
from  the  investigations  of  Du  Bois-Reymoud  on  the  electro-motor  proper- 
ties of  nerves,  that  the  activity  by  which  the  propagation  of  a  stimulus  is 
accomplished  is  closely  connected  with  an  altered  arrangement  of  their  ma- 
terial molecules — perhaps  even  essentially  determined  by  them.  Accord- 
ingly, the  process  of  conduction  in  nerves  may  belong  to  the  series  of  con- 
tinuous molecular  operations  of  ponderable  bodies,  in  which,  for  example, 
the  conduction  of  sound  in  the  air,  or  the  combustion  in  a  tube  filled  with 
an  expl'>sive  mixture,  is  to  be  reckoned.  It  is  not  surprising  therefore," 
he  adds,  "  that  the  speed  of  conduction  should  be  very  moderate."  (Ueber 
die  Methoden,  etc.) 


OF  VITALITY.  223 

ing  to  the  history  of  the  earth  to  show  that  iTature,  having 
done  all  else,  required  a  long  period  before  it  accomplished 
the  evolution  of  life. 

In  spite,  then,  of  a  desire  on  the  part  of  some  persons  to 
separate  biology  from  the  other  sciences,  and,  notwithstand- 
ing the  alarm  occasionally  displayed  with  regard  to  the  dig- 
nity of  vitality,  it  is  the  certain  tendency  of  advancing 
knowledge  to  bring  a  science  of  life  into  close  and  indissolu- 
ble relations  with  other  sciences,  and  thus  to  establish  in 
cognition,  or  to  reflect  in  consciousness,  the  unity  which 
exists  in  i^ature.  When,  in  ancient  times,  life  was  assigned 
to  the  stars,  the  air,  the  water,  a  sort  of  unity  was  recog- 
nized, but  recognized  only  by  explaining  Nature  from  a  very 
imperfect  knowledge  of  man ;  now  the  task  is  to  explain  man 
on  the  basis  of  an  increasing  knowledge  of  Nature,  and  in 
that  way  to  demonstrate  the  unity  of  the  whole.  What  must 
be  the  result?  Nothing  less,  indeed,  than  the  reconciliation 
of  the  ideal  and  the  real,  the  identification  of  subjective  and 
objective.  As  life  is  a  condition  in  which  an  intimate  corre- 
lation exists  between  the  individual  and  Nature,  it  is  evident 
that,  while  Plato  dealt  only  with  ideas  of  the  mind,  his  sys- 
tem must  remain  comparatively  unprofitable ;  but  it  is  evi- 
dent also  that,  since  we  have  learned  to  discover  the  laws  or 
ideas  in  Nature  of  which  ideas  in  the  mind  are  correlates,  it 
becomes  possible  to  find  in  Nature  an  interpretation  of 
Plato's  true  ideas.*  Once  for  all,  it  may  perhaps  be  taken 
for  granted  that  the  ideas  of  genius  never  can  be  meaningless ; 
for  its  mental  life  is  a  reflection  in  consciousness  of  the  un- 
conscious life  of  Nature.  How  excellently  has  this  been  ex- 
emplified in  him  who  embodied  in  poetical  form  the  scientific 
spirit  of  this  age  I     It  was  the  great  characteristic  of  Goethe, 

*  "  But  it  is  manifest  tliat  Plato,  in  his  opinion  of  ideas  as  one  that  had 
a  wit  of  elevation  situate  as  upon  a  cliff,  did  descry 'that  forms  we»e  the 
true  object  of  knowledge,'  but  lost  the  real  fruit  of  his  opinion  by  consider- 
ing of  forms  as  absolutely  abstracted  from  matter,  and  not  confined  and  de- 
termined by  matter ;  and  so  turning  his  opinion  on  theology,  wherewith  aU 
ilia  natural  philosophy  is  infected."— Z>e  Aug.  Scient. 


224  THE  THEORY 

as  Lavater  justly  said  of  him,  to  give  a  poetical  form  to  tho 
real ;  he  proved,  in  fact,  that  science,  in  place  of  rendering 
poetry  impossible,  opened  a  field  for  the  highest  poetry.  His 
romance  of  the  Elective  Afiinities  {WahlverwandscJiaften) 
starts  from  the  chemical  affinities  of  elements,  and  applies 
Buch  affinities  to  human  beings,  therein  exactly  reversing  the 
old  method,  which,  starting  from  the  phenomena  of  self-con- 
sciousness, applied  the  passions  of  the  human  mind  to  the 
phenomena  of  external  Nature.  Of  Goethe  it  may  be  justly 
said,  that  in  him  the  ideal  and  the  real  were  happily  blended; 
that  he  embodied  the  scientific  spirit  of  the  age,  and  yet  was 
in  some  respects  an  advance  upon  it ;  that  he  was  a  prophecy 
of  that  which  must  be  a  course  of  development  of  the  human 
mind  if  it  be  destined  to  develop. 

The  foregoing  general  sketch  of  the  course  and  tendency 
of  knowledge  is  fully  justified  by  the  present  aspect  of  sci- 
ence. When  Nature  was  first  examined  objectively  the  dif- 
ferences in  matter  appeared  manifold,  and  its  modes  of  energy 
or  activity — ^that  is,  its  forces — appeared  many  also.  On  a 
more  careful  use  of  the  senses,  however — in  fact,  by  the  ap- 
plication of  the  delicate  balance  to  the  products  of  combus- 
tion— it  became  evident  that  one  form  of  matter  only  disap- 
peared to  reappear  in  another  form ;  that  it  never  perished, 
but  only  changed.  Elementary  matter  thus  passes  upward 
into  chemical  and  organic  compounds,  and  then  downward 
from  organic  to  chemical,  and  from  chemical  compounds  to 
its  elementary  condition.  Out  of  dust  man  is  formed  by  an 
upward  transformation  of  matter,  and  to  dust  he  returns  by 
a  retrograde  metamorphosis  thereof.  Corresponding  with 
the  changes  in  the  form  of  matter  are  changes  in  its  modes 
of  energy  or  its  forces;  to  different  combinations  and  ar- 
rangements of  molecules  correspond  diff'erent  modes  of  en- 
ergy. Force  therefore  is  eternal,  like  matter,  and  passes 
through  a  corresponding  cycle  of  transformations.  The  cor- 
relation and  conservatior  of  forces,  which  have  always  been 
more  or  less   clearly  recognized   as  necessities   of  human 


I 


I  OF  VITALITY.  225 

thought,  are  now  accepted  as  scientific  axioms,  and  are  daily 
receiving  experimental  demonstration.* 

Though  it  may  seem  difficult  to  avoid  the  conclusion  that 
there  is  fundamentally  but  one  natural  force  which  manifests 
itself  under  difi"erent  modes,  yet  such  a  supposition  at  present 
transcends  the  domain  of  science.  As  a  matter  of  fact  we  are 
compelled,  in  order  to  form  a  satisfactory  conception  of  mat- 
ter and  its  forces,  to  regard  it  under  a  twofold  aspect.  In 
all  our  conceptions  we  imply  a  sort  of  dualism  of  power  in 
every  body,  though  we  are  very  apt  to  forget  it  in  our  gen- 
eralizations. The  hinges  of  gravitation,  for  example,  keep 
worlds  in  their  orbits  by  opposing  a  centrifugal  force  which 
would  otherwise  drive  them  afloat  into  space.  The  smaller 
hinges  of  molecular  cohesion  hold  together  the  infinitely 
smaller  bodies  which  we  call  molecules  of  matter,  in  opposi- 
tion to  a  repulsive  force,  which,  on  the  application  of  a  little 
heat,  may  drive  them  off  into  space,  and  in  volatile  sub- 
stances does  so  drive  them  off  without  heat.  It  is  the  same 
with  liquids ;  their  diffusion  power  is  similar  in  character  to 
the  volatility  of  solids;  while  "  colloids  "  are  volatile,  "crys- 
talloids "  are  comparatively  "  fixed."  There  is  a  relation  of 
molecules  to  one  another  which  we  are  compelled  to  repre- 
sent in  conception  as  the  result  of  a  force  of  repulsion  or 
tension.  And  as  some  sensible  image  is  necessary  for  the 
.  mind  in  order  to  the  clearness  of  a  conception  of  the  invisi- 
ble, physics  assumes  between  the  ponderable  molecules  of  a 
body  certain  ethereal  particles  which  are  in  a  state  of  sta- 

*  Epicurus,  Democritus,  Aristotle,  all  upheld  the  eternity  of  matter; 
the  quotations  from  Lucretius  and  Persius  on  that  subject  are  well  known, 
but  the  following  passage  from  the  De  Av.gmentis  is  not  so  common  :  "  All 
things  change,  but  nothing  is  lost.  This  is  an  axiom  in  physics,  and  holds 
in  natural  theology;  for  as  the  sum  of  matter  neither  diminishes  nor  in- 
creases, so  it  is  equally  the  work  of  Omnipotence  to  create  or  to  annihilate." 
Other  passages  of  like  import  occur  in  Bacon's  writings.  And  the  Bra- 
nnnical  doctrine  is  as  follows  :  "The  ignorant  assert  that  the  universe  iu 
the  beginning  did  not  exist  in  its  author,  and  that  it  was  created  out  of 
nothing.  O  ye,  whose  hearts  are  pure,  how  could  something  come  out  of 
nothing?" 


226  THE  THEORY  * 

tionary  oscillation,  the  degree  of  temperature  of  the  body 
being  supposed  to  depend  upon  the  intensitj  of  the  active 
force  of  these  imponderable  intermolecular  particles.  If  the 
body  be  suddenly  and  greatly  compressed,  these  motions  are 
communicated  to  the  imponderable  ether  outside  the  body, 
and  tension  force  thus  becomes  free  force  in  manifest  radia- 
tion of  beat.  "  What  is  heat  in  us,"  very  justly  said  Locke, 
"  is  in  the  heated  body  nothing  but  motion."  When  heat  is 
withdrawn  from  matter — that  is,  when  the  tension  force  be- 
comes free,  its  molecules  get  nearer  to  one  another — their 
cohesion  is  greater ;  thus  vapors  become  liquids  and  liquids 
become  solids. 

It  seems  probable  that  the  necessity  of  regarding  matter 
under  this  twofold  aspect  of  attraction  and  repulsion  is  owing 
to  man's  inability,  as  being  himself  a  part  of  Xature,  to  form 
a  conception  of  Nature  as  a  whole.  He  must  necessarily  re- 
gard things  in  relation  to  himself;  for  as  he  exists  only  in 
relation  to  Xature,  and  as  every  phase  of  consciousness  is  an 
expression  of  this  relation,  it  is  plain  that  one  of  the  elements 
of  the  relation  cannot  free  itself,  and  from  an  independent 
point  of  view  watch  unconcernedly  things  as  they  really  are. 
Thus,  though  we  speak  of  passivity  and  activity,  they  are 
really  not  different  kinds  of  action,  but  different  relations  of 
the  same  kind  of  action.  Whatever  be  the  cause,  and  how- 
ever doubtful  the  philosophical  validity  of  the  distinction, 
we  are  compelled  to  regard  matter  in  this  twofold  relatiol. 
One  aspect  of  the  relation  we  describe  as  passive,  statical, 
cohesion,  or,  to  use  the  generic  term,  attraction ;  the  other 
is  active,  dynamical,  tension,  or,  to  use  the  generic  term,  re- 
pulsion. Attraction  plus  repulsion  of  molecules  constitutes 
our  conception  of  matter ;  and,  in  observation  of  its  modes 
of  energy,  attraction  is  recognized  in  gravitation,  cohesion, 
magnetism,  affinity,  love,  while  repulsion  is  found  in  the  cen-' 
trifiigal  force,  in  heat,  in  electricity,  in  antipathy,  and  hate. 

It  is  in  rising  to  the  department  of  chemical  compounds 
that  attraction  is  found  under  a  new  and  special  phase  as 


I 


OF  VITALITY.  22l 

eliemical  affinity.  But,  wheu  tlie  chemical  union  of  two  mol- 
ecules into  a  single  one  takes  place,  a  diminution  of  the  ten- 
sion force  surrounding  each  molecule  must  occur,  and,  accord- 
ing to  the  law  of  the  conservation  of  force,  an  equivalent  of 
another  force  must  be  set  free.  This  happens  in  the  produc- 
tion of  heat  and  electricity ;  for,  as  Faraday  has  shown, 
chemical  action  cannot  take  place  without  the  development 
of  electricity.  The  amount  of  force  liberated  in  a  simple 
chemical  combination  will  be  the  equivalent  of  the  tension 
force  lost.  "When  one  atom  of  carbon  combines  with  one  atom 
of  oxygen,  a  definite  quantity  of  tension  force  surrounding  each 
molecule  disappears,  and  a  definite  quantity  of  heat  is  accord- 
ingly produced.  When  two  molecules  separate  in  chemical  de- 
composition, they  necessarily  make  passive  or  latent  so  much 
active  force;  so  much  heat  becomes  so  much  tension  force. 
But  furthermore,  in  a  chemical  decomposition  we  have  the 
resolution  of  that  very  intense  and  special  force,  chemical 
affinity  itself;  so  that  the  force  set  free  will,  one  would  sup- 
pose, fiir  exceed  that  which  becomes  latent  as  tension  force 
around  the  molecules.  We  know  not  why  two  molecules 
should  chemically  combine ;  we  accept  as  a  fundamental  law 
of  their  nature  this  higli,  special,  and  powerful  form  of  at- 
traction ;  but  we  do  know  that,  when  chemical  decomposition 
takes  place,  a  little  chemical  force  must  be  resolved  into 
a  large  display  of  inferior  force.  It  is  a  fiict  authenticated 
by  Faraday,  that  one  drop  of  water  contains,  and  may  be 
made  to  evolve,  as  much  electricity  as  under  different  modes 
of  display  would  suffice  to  produce  a  lightning-flash.  The 
decomposition  of  matter  is  the  resolution  of  force,  and  in 
such  resolution  one  equivalent  of  chemical  force  will  corre- 
spond to  several  equivalents  of  inferior  force.  Thus  chemical 
force,  though  correlated  with  the  physical  forces,  may  be 
taid  to  be  of  a  much  higher  order  than  they  are. 

In  the  still  higher  stage  of  matter  in  a  state  of  natality, 
we  meet  with  chemical  combination  of  a  much  more  complex 
character  than  occurs  in  inorganic  matter ;  attraction  appears 


228  THE  THEORY 

under  its  most  special  and  complex  form.  Matter,  which  in 
its  elementary  condition  might  occupy  some  space,  is  so 
blended  or  combined  as  to  occupy  a  minimum  ot  space ;  and 
force,  which,  under  a  lower  mode,  might  suffice  perhaps  to 
illuminate  the  heavens,  is  here  confined  within  the  small 
compass  of  an  organic  cell  or  of  a  speck  of  protoplasm.  "We 
have  to  do,  however,  with  organic  matter  under  two  forms — 
as  dead  and  as  living  matter,  as  displaying  energy  of  its  own, 
or  as  displaying  no  energy.  Dead  organic  matter  has  ceased 
to  act,  and  it  is  now  acted  upon ;  it  is  at  the  mercy  of  the 
forces  which  surround  it,  and  immediately  begin  to  eflfect  its 
dissolution.  Heat  hastens  decomposition,  because  in  the 
separation  of  the  constituents  of  organic  matter  into  the 
ultimate  inorganic  products — carbonic  acid,  ammonia,  and 
water — a  certain  amount  of  active  force  must  become  latent 
as  the  tension  force  of  these  molecules ;  and  this  force  the 
heat  supplies.  There  is  also  the  force  of  the  chemical  affinity 
of  the  oxygen  of  the  air  for  the  oxidizable  elements  of  the 
substance ;  and  the  combination  is  necessarily  attended  with 
the  production  of  heat.  The  heating  value  of  organic  matter 
will  accordingly  increase  with  the  quantity  of  oxidizable  ele 
ments;  but  the  matter  is  by  no  means  so  simple  as  it  might 
at  first  sight  appear  to  be.  Suppose  the  atom  of  carbon  with 
which  an  atom  of  oxygen  combines  was  previously  in  com- 
bination with,  for  example,  an  atom  of  hydrogen;  and  the 
question  is,  whether  the  amount  of  heat  produced  will  be  th'e 
same  as  though  the  atom  of  carbon  had  been  free  ?  In  reality 
it  wiL  not ;  it  must  be  less,  because  in  the  separation  of  the 
carbon  atom  and  the  hydrogen  atom  so  much  active  force 
must  become  tension  force — that  is,  so  much  heat  must  dis- 
appear or  become  latent ;  and  that  loss  of  heat  will  neces- 
sarily counterbalance  a  part  of  the  heat  produced,  or  the 
decrease  of  tension  force  which  occurs,  through  the  combi- 
nation of  the  atom  of  carbon  with  the  atom  of  oxygen.  It  is 
this  consideration  which  appears  to  invalidate  some  experi- 
ments made  and  conclusions  come  to  with  regard  to  animal 
heat. 


OF   VITALITY.  229 

But  there  is  another  consideration.  In  this  mere  burning 
or  decomposition  of  organic  matter,  or  that  which  represents 
the  passive,  statical,  or  attractive  phase  of  vitality,  the  active 
force  whicli  results  is  due  partly  to  force  from  without,  and 
not  solely  to  the  liberation  of  force  latent  in  the  matter.  Ex- 
ternal forces  have,  as  it  were,  been  pulling  it  to  pieces. 
What,  then,  on  the  principle  of  the  conservation  of  force, 
becomes  of  that  intense  chemical  force  which  is  implied  in 
the  organic  nature  of  the  material,  that  power  which  holds 
it  together  as  a  specific  material  differing  in  properties  from 
all  kinds  of  inorganic  matter  ?  Though  dead,  the  chemical 
composition  of  organic  substance  is  the  same  as  when  alive ; 
and  its  future  destiny  is  entirely  dependent  on  the  circum- 
stances in  which  it  may  be  placed.  In  the  air,  it  is  true,  it 
will  undergo  decomposition  into  inorganic  products  ;  but,  if 
it  be  surrounded  with  the  conditions  of  life,  if  it  be  exposed 
to  the  influence  of  higher  forces,  by  being  given  as  food  to 
some  animal,  it  does  not  go  downward,  but  upward,  and 
somehow  takes  on  life  again.  It  is  plain  what  becomes  of 
the  statical  force  under  the  latter  circumstances.  But,  in  the 
decomposition  of  organic  matter  in  the  air  and  the  correlative 
resolution  of  force,  it  is  not  so  evident  what  becomes  of  all 
the  force  which  must  be  liberated.  That  it  returns  to  general 
Nature  can  admit  of  no  doubt;  but  does  it  all  appear  as  heat? 
4-  part  of  it  must  necessarily  do  so,  becoming  latent  as  the 
tension  force  of  the  molecules  of  the  ultimate  products  of  its 
decomposition,  and  the  rest  is  liberated  under  some  form  or 
other,  if  not  entirely  as  heat.  There  is  some  reason  to  believe, 
however,  that  dead  organic  substance  does  not  always  un- 
dergo the  extreme  retrograde  metamorphosis  of  material  and 
of  force  before  being  used  up  again  in  vital  compounds,  even 
by  the  vegetable  kingdom.  It  has  been  shown  that  not  only 
do  pale  plants,  such  as  fungi,  feed  on  organic  matter,  but 
that  soluble  humus  is  regularly  taken  up  by  the  roots  of  al- 
most all  plants.  Prof.  Le  Conte  has  shown  it  to  be  probable 
that  the  decomposition  of  the  organic  matter  supplies  the 


230  THE  THEORY 

force  necessary  for  raising  other  matter  from  a  lower  to  a 
higher  stage.*  The  force  necessary  for  organization  is  thus 
furnished  by  the  force  which  results  from  disorganization ; 
death  and  destruction  are  the  conditions  of  life  and  devel- 
opment. 

When  organic  matter  displays  energy — that  is,  when  it 
has  life — its  relations  with  its  surroundings  are  different.  As 
chemical  affinity  seems  to  hold  the  place  of  attraction  in  it, 
and  to  correspond  to  gravitation  among  celestial  bodies, 
cohesive  force  among  molecules,  and  magnetic  force  among 
polar  molecules,  so  its  dynamical  or  vital  action  seems  to  cor- 
respond to  the  force  of  repulsion,  to  the  centrifugal  force  of 
heavenly  bodies,  the  tension  force  of  molecules,  and  electrical 
repulsion.  The  display  of  energy  coincides  with  a  molecular 
change  in  the  statical  element.  With  the  function  of  a  gan- 
glionic nerve-cell,  for  example,  a  correlative  molecular  change, 
or  "w^aste,"  as  it  is  called,  necessarily  takes  place  either  in 
the  nerve-element  itself  or  in  what  is  supplied  to  it  from  the 
blood.  The  substances  which  are  met  with  in  the  so-called 
extractives  of  nerve-tissue  afford  abundant  evidence  of  a  ma- 
terial waste ;  for  as  products  of  the  retrograde  metamorphosis 
are  found  lactic  acid  in  considerable  quantities,  kreatin,  uric 
acid,  probably  also  hypoxanthin,  and,  representing  the  fatty 
acids,  formic  and  acetic  acid.f  And  what  Du  Bois-Eeymond 
proved  to  happen  in  muscle,  Funke  has  observed  to  happen 
also  with  nerve  :  while  the  contents  of  nerve-tubes  are  neutral 
during  rest  in  the  living  state,  they  become  acid  after  death, 
and  also  after  great  activity  during  life.  After  excessive 
mental  exercise,  it  is  well  known  that  phosphates  appear  in 

*  The  Correlation  of  Physical,  Chemical,  and  Vital  Force,  and  the  Con- 
servation of  Force  in  Vital  Phenomena.  By  J.  Le  Conte,  Professor  of  Ge- 
oloiry  and  Chemistry  in  South  Carolina  College.  (American  [Journal  oi 
Science  and  Arts,  No.  28,  1859.) 

+  It  is  interesting  to  remark  how  the  products  of  chemical  transformation 
resulting  from  nerve-action  agree  with  the  products  of  decomposition  after 
muscular  activity,  and  how  the  results  coincide  with  what,  a  priori,  might 
have  been  expected  from  the  great  vital  activity  of  nerve-structure. 


OF  VITALITY.  231 

the  urine  in  considerable  quantities ;  and  it  is  only  bj  sup- 
posing an  idea  to  be  accompanied  by  a  correlative  change  in 
the  nerve-cells  that  we  can  explain  the  bodily  exhaustion 
which  is  produced  by  mental  labor,  and  the  breaking  down 
of  the  brain  under  prolonged  intellectual  efforts.  There  is 
even  at  times  a  sensation  of  something  going  on  in  the  brain ; 
and,  in  insanity,  such  anomalous  feelings  are  sometimes  per- 
sistently complained  of.  But  the  change  or  waste  which 
accompanies  energy  is  restored  by  nutrition  during  rest,  and 
the  conditions  of  future  energy  are  thus  established ;  nutritive 
attraction  steadily  repairing  the  waste  of  centrifugal  function. 
The  cell  thus,  for  a  time  at  least,  preserves  its  individuality ; 
and  definiteness  of  energy,  with  the  maintenance  of  individ- 
uality, is  what  is  connoted  by  vitality. 

Is  the  energy  displayed  by  living  matter  something  quite 
special  ?  In  attempting  to  answer  that  question,  two  consid- 
erations should  be  kept  in  view.  In  the  first  place,  an  effect 
need  not  at  aU  resemble  in  properties  its  cause  ;  the  qualities 
of  a  chemical  compound  are  quite  different  from  those  of  its 
constituents.  Such  a  complex  compound  as  organic  matter 
really  is  may  be  expected,  therefore,  to  exhibit  peculiar  prop- 
erties in  no  way  resembling  those  of  its  constituent  elements 
or  those  of  simple  compounds.  In  the  second  place,  the  ar- 
rangement or  grouping  of  the  molecules  in  a  substance,  inde- 
pendently of  its  chemical  composition,  may  greatly  alter  its 
properties  :  there  is  a  molecular  as  well  as  a  chemical  consti- 
tution of  matter.  In  that  condition  of  bodies  which  is  de- 
scribed as  Isomerism,  there  are  atoms  alike  in  number,  nature, 
and  relative  proportion,  so  grouped  as  somehow  to  produce 
compounds  having  very  different  chemical  properties.  Again, 
it  has  been  found  that  the  same  matter  may  exist  under  two 
very  different  conditions,  and  with  very  different  properties — 
as  colloidal  and  as  crystalloidal,  in  a  gelatinous  or  in  a  crys- 
talline state.  And  what  is  the  chief  difference  ?  It  is  that 
the  colloidal  is  a  dynamical  state  of  matter,  the  crystalloidal 
a  statical  state.     The  colloid  exhibits  energy ;  its  existence  is 


232  THE  THEORY 

a  continued  metastasis ;  and  it  may  be  looked  upon,  says 
Graham,  "  as  the  probable  primary  source  of  the  force  ap- 
pearing in  the  phenomena  of  vitality."  The  distinction  be- 
tween the  two  kinds  of  matter  is,  in  fact,  "  that  subsisting 
between  the  material  of  a  mineral  and  the  material  of  an 
organized  mass."  And  yet  minerals  may  exist  in  the  colloidal 
state ;  the  hydrated  peroxides  of  the  aluminous  class,  for  ex- 
ample, are  colloids.  Furthermore,  the  mineral  forms  of  silicic 
acid  deposited  from  water,  such  as  flint,  are  found  to  have 
passed  during  the  geological  ages  from  the  colloidal  into  the 
crystalline  condition  ;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  in  the  so-called 
blood-crystals  of  Funke,  a  soft  and  gelatinous  albuminoid  is 
seen  to  assume  a  crystalline  contour.  "  Can  any  facts,"  asks 
Graham,  "  more  strikingly  illustrate  the  maxim,  that  in  Ma- 
ture there  are  no  abrupt  transitions,  and  that  distinctions  of 
class  are  never  absolute  ?  "  * 

The  foregoing  considerations  render  it  evident  that  the 
manifestation  of  organic  energy  by  matter  is  not  a  contrast  to 
the  kind  of  energy  which  is  displayed  by  inorganic  matter, 
and  so  far  justify  tlie  supposition  that  it  may  be  a  question 
of  chemical  composition  and  intimate  molecular  constitution. 
Vitality  would  not  then  be  a  special  principle,  but  a  result,  and 
would  be  explained  ultimately  by  the  operation  of  the  so-called 
molecular  forces.  Coleridge's  assertion,  that  the  division  of 
substances  into  living  and  dead,  though  'psychologically  ne- 
cessary, was  of  doubtful  philosophical  validity,  would  receive 
a  support  which  its  author  could  scarce  have  expected  for  it. 

Before  granting  any  conclusion,  it  is  desirable  to  examine 
into  that  which  is  generally  deemed  to  constitute  the  spe- 

*A  further  characteristic  of  colloids  is  their  singular  inertness  in  all 
ordinary  chemical  relations,  though  they  have  a  compensating  attivity  of 
their  own  in  their  penetrability ;  they  are  permeable  when  in  mass,  as  water 
is.  by  the  more  highly  diffusive  class  of  substances,  but  they  cut  off  entirely 
other  colloid  .1  substances  that  may  be  in  solution.  It  is  evident  that  our 
conception  of  soli;l  matter  must  soon  undergo  considerable  modification. 
(.On  Liquid  Diffusion  ajjplied  to  Analysis.  By  T.  Graham,  P.  R.  S.  PbUo. 
Bophical  Transactions,  1862.) 


OF  VITALITY.  233 

cialty  of  life.  Now,  it  is  certain,  'vrlien  we  consider  the  vast 
range  of  vitality  from  the  simple  life  of  a  molecule  or  cell  to 
the  complex  life  of  man,  that  valid  objections  may  be  made 
to  any  definition  of  life.  If  it  be  wide  enough  to  comprise 
all  forms,  it  will  be  too  vague  to  have  any  value;  if  narrow 
enough  to  be  exact,  it  will  exclude  the  most  lowly  forms. 
The  problem  is  to  investigate  the  conditions  of  the  manifesta- 
tion of  life.  A  great  fault  in  many  attempted  definitions  has 
oeen  the  description  of  life  as  a  resistance  or  complete  con- 
trast to  the  rest  of  JSTature,  which  was  supposed  to  be  con- 
tinually striving  to  destroy  it.  But  the  elements  of  organic 
matter  are  not  different  from  those  of  inorganic,  whence  they 
are  derived,  and  to  which  they  return;  and  the  chemical  and 
mechanical  forces  of  tiiese  elements  cannot  be  suspended  or 
removed  within  the  organism.  What  is  special  is  the  manner 
of  composition  of  the  elements:  there  is  a  concurrence  of 
manifold  substances,  and  they  are  combined  or  grouped  to- 
gether in  a  very  complex  way.  Such  union  or  grouping  is, 
however,  only  a  further  advance  upon,  and  by  no  means  a 
contrast  to,  the  kind  of  combination  which  is  met  with  in  in- 
organic bodies.  Life  is  not  a  contrast  to  non-living  Nature, 
but  a  further  development  of  it.  The  more  knowledge  ad- 
vances, the  more  plainly  is  it  shown  that  there  are  physical 
and  chemical  processes  upon  which  life  depends.  Heat  is 
produced  by  combustion  in  the  organism  as  it  is  in  the  fire  ; 
starch  is  converted  into  sugar  tliere,  as  it  is  in  the  chemical 
laboratory ;  urea,  which  is  so  constant  a  product  of  the  body's 
chemistry,  can  be  formed  artificially  by  the  chemist ;  and 
the  process  of  excitation  in  a  nerve,  on  the  closure  of  a  con- 
stant stream,  appears  to  be  analogous  to  the  process  of  elec- 
trolysis in  which  hydrogen  is  given  o&  at  the  negative  pole.'' 
The  peculiarity  of  life  is  the  complexity  of  combination  in  so 
small  a  space,  the  intimate  operation  of  many  simultaneously- 
acting  forces  in  the  microcosm  of  the  organic  cell.     Knowl- 

*  A.  von  Bezold :  TJntersuchiitisen  iiber  die  electrische  Erregung  der 
Nerven  and  Muskeln.    Leipzig,  1861. 


234  THE  THEORY 

edge  cannot  pass  the  life-boundary,  because  there  are  not 
at  present  any  means  of  following  the  intimate  changes  which 
take  place  beyond  it ;  there  is  a  world  there  into  which  the 
senses  of  man  cannot  yet  enter.  But,  as  each  great  advance 
of  science  has  followed  some  invention  by  which  the  opera- 
tion of  the  senses  has  been  extended,  there  can  be  little 
doubt  that  the  important  step  toward  a  true  science  of  life 
will  be  made  with  the  discovery  of  a  means  of  tracing  the 
delicate  processes  of  protoplasmic  activity.  Microscopic  phys- 
ics and  microscopic  chemistry,  nay,  physics  and  chemistry 
of  a  delicacy  beyond  the  reach  of  the  powers  of  the  highest 
microscope,  are  needed.  So  that  it  may  well  be  that  this  gen- 
eration and  generations  to  come  will  have  passed  to  their 
everlasting  rest  before  a  discovery  of  the  secret  of  vital  ac- 
tivity is  made. 

Before  dealing  with  that  which  is  considered  to  mark  a 
second  and  great  peculiarity  of  life,  namely,  its  aim  or  plan, 
it  will  be  well  to  illustrate  the  foregoing  remarks  from  the 
phenomena  of  conscious  vitality.  It  is,  in  truth,  with  the  low- 
est form  of  vitality  as  it  is  with  the  lowest  form  of  conscious 
vitality — with  the  human  mind  in  the  earliest  stages  of  its  evo- 
lution. A  self-conservative  impulse  moves  the  most  barbarous 
people  to  regard  the  operation  of  the  external  forces  of  Xature, 
and  to  adopt  rude  means  to  preserve  life  and  to  obtain  comfort ; 
the  savage  avoids  the  current  which  would  drive  his  frail  ca- 
noe on  the  hungry  breakers,  and  shelters  his  hut  from  the  over- 
whelming fury  of  the  storm ;  he  may  be  said  to  war  with  Ma- 
ture for  the  maintenance  of  individual  power,  as  the  vital 
force  of  a  cell  may  be  said  to  war  with  the  nature  that  imme- 
diately surrounds  it.  But  it  is  obvious  that  man  only  struggles 
successfully  with  the  physical  forces  by  recognizing  the  lawa 
of  their  action,  and  by  accommodating  his  individual  forces  to 
physical  laws ;  it  is  victory  by  obedience.  By  conscious  obedi- 
ence to  the  physical  law,  he  appropriates,  as  it  were,  the  force 
thereof,  in  the  increase  of  his  own  power;  the  idea  is  devel- 
oped in  his  mind  as  the  correlate  of  the  law  or  iJta  in  Sa* 


OF  VITALITY.  235 

tiire ;  in  his  mental  progress  Nature  is  undergoing  develop- 
ment through  him.  By  keeping  in  mind  this  analogy  of  the 
mental  force  the  difficulty  will  be  obviated,  which  there  might 
seem  to  be  in  conceiving  the  organic  cell  as  a  result  of  physi- 
cal and  chemical  forces,  and  yet  as  resisting  the  action  of 
these  forces.  Every  act  of  so-called  resistance  on  the  part 
of  the  cell  to  the  natural  forces  is  really  a  phenomenon  indi  • 
eating  the  development  of  them ;  its  life  is  not  a  contrast  to 
non-living  Nature,  but  a  further  complication  of  it.  The  fun- 
damental law  of  life  is  the  same  for  its  conscious  and  uncon- 
scious manifestations ;  it  is  individuation  by  appropriation. 
And,  however  necessary  it  may  seem  to  the  individual,  as  a 
part  of  a  whole  looking  at  the  rest,  to  represent  the  vital  as 
in  constant  antagonism  to  the  physical,  such  a  conception 
does  not  faithfully  express  the  condition  of  the  whole  regard- 
ed as  a  whole.  A  just  conception  of  Nature  as  one  harmoni- 
ous whole  is  plainly  not  antagonistic  to  the  spirit  of  any  in- 
vestigations which  may  tend  to  prove  the  dependence  of  life 
on  physical  and  chemical  processes. 

That  which  is  commonly  said  to  constitute  the  specialty  of 
life  is  the  maintenance  of  a  certain  definite  plan  ;  and  accord- 
ingly Coleridge,  following  Schelling,  defined  life  as  "the 
principle  of  individuation."  Given  the  different  kinds  of 
force  and  of  matter,  and  how,  it  is  asked,  is  the  pattern  de- 
termined and  worked  out?  A3  every  individual  is  in  life 
weaving  out  some  pattern  "  on  the  roaring  loom  of  time," 
though  "  what  he  weaves  no  weaver  knows,"  so  the  lowest 
form  of  vitality  manifests  a  definite  energy,  and  is  said  to 
accomplish  a  definite  plan.  A  crystal  would  go  on  increasing 
if  suitable  materials  and  the  conditions  of  its  growth  were 
present,  "  but  it  has  been  provided  that  trees  do  not  grow  up 
into  heaven."  Life  works  according  to  an  aim,  said  Aristotle. 
Admitting  all  this,  we  are  not  therefore  called  upon  to  admit 
a  special  contrast  to  the  rest  of  Nature.  Liebig  compares  the 
living  body  to  a  building  which  is  constructed  after  a  definite, 
preordained  plan;  but  it  is  obvious  that  exactly  in  the  same 


236  THE   THEOllT. 

sense  might  the  positive  biologist  say  of  the  chemical  atom, 
that  it  is  constructed  and  displays  energy  according  to  a  pre 
ordained  plan;  or  even  of  the  crystal,  that  it  works  out  a 
certain  pattern,  seeing  that  it  cannot  overstep  the  laws  of 
its  form.  The  plan  is  the  law  of  the  matter,  and  the  law  is  not 
something  outside  the  matter,  but  it  is  inherent  in  it.  Organic 
matter,  like  the  chemical  element,  has  an  activity  given  to  it- 
self which  it  must  display ;  the  law  of  causality  is  true  of  it 
as  of  inorganic  matter ;  and  the  organic  effect,  the  so-called 
accomplishment  of  the  plan,  is  the  necessary  result  of  a  cer- 
tain molecular  constitution  and  certain  intimate  combinations 
which  exist  in  the  organic  molecule  or  cell  or  monad,  or 
whatever  else  we  choose  to  name  the  ultimate  unit  of  life. 

The  direct  denial  of  a  special  vital  force  has  been  the 
natural  reaction  against  that  dogmatism  which  assumed  a  vital 
principle  that  was  self-generating,  did  any  thing  it  liked,  and 
was  not  amenable  to  investigation.  That  any  force  should 
be  self-generating  in  inexhaustible  quantity  is  really  an  in- 
conceivable supposition.  If  the  axiom,  that  force,  like  matter, 
is  not  capable  of  annihilation,  be  accepted,  and  we  find,  as 
we  do,  that  organic  bodies  incorporate,  or  somehow  cause  to 
disappear,  inorganic  matter  and  force,  and  thereby  themselves 
increase,  it  is  an  unavoidable  conclusion  that  the  organic 
matter  and  force  must  represent  the  converted  inorganic 
matter  and  force.  To  suppose  that  the  vital  force  was  self- 
produced  would  be  to  suppose  a  disturbance  of  the  equilib- 
rium of  Nature,  and  it  might  not  then  be  unreasonable  to 
fear  lest  the  earth,  by  the  increase  of  its  repulsion  force, 
should  break  through  the  hinges  of  gravitation  and  float  off 
into  space,  or  burst  into  fragments,  as  a  planet  between  Mara 
and  Jupiter  is  supposed  at  one  time  to  have  done.* 

*  Science,  in  its  view  of  life,  seems  to  be  followinffthecorrse  of  develop- 
ment in  Hnmboldfs  mind.  In  his  earlier  writings  lie  defined  vital  force  as 
the  unknown  cause  which  prevents  the  elements  from  following  their  origi- 
nal attractive  forces.  (Aphorism,  ex  doct.  Phys.  Chem. Plant.)  "  Reflection 
and  prolonged  study,"  he  says,  in  his  "Aspects  of  Nature,"  "in  the  depart- 
ments of  physiology  and  chemistry,  have  deeply  shaken  my  earlier  belief  in 


OF  VITALITY.  237 

"When,  however,  it  is  said  that  a  minute  portion  of  living 
matter  converts  inorganic  matter  into  its  own  nature,  and 
thus  develops  new  organic  matter  which  has  the  power  of 
doing  likewise,  it  is  evident  that  a  great  and  peculiar  poten- 
tiality is  assumed  in  the  living  molecule.  What  power  is  it 
which  transforms  the  matter  and  force  ?  Some  who  have  ad- 
vocated the  correlation  of  the  vital  force  with  the  physical 
forces  seem  not  to  have  given  due  attention  to  this  question ; 
they  have  laid  such  great  stress  on  the  external  force  as  to 
have  fallen  into  an  error  almost  as  great  as,  though  the  oppo- 
site of,  that  of  the  advocates  of  a  self-generating  vital  force. 
External  circumstances  are  the  necessary  conditions  of  in- 
ward acti\dty,  but  the  inward  fact  is  the  important  condition 
— it  is  the  determining  condition,  and,  so  far  as  we  know 
yet,  it  can  only  be  derived  from  a  like  living  mother  struct- 
ure. Nevertheless,  even  in  that  inherited  potentiality  there 
is  not  a  contrast  to  that  which  happens  in  the  rest  of  Nature. 
"V^'hen  heat  is  converted  into  electricity,  or  any  force  into 
another,  the  change  is  not  self-determined;  the  determining 
force  lies  in  the  molecules  of  the  matter,  in  the  so-called 
statical  force,  that  which  Aristotle  in  his  division  of  causes 
names  the  material  cause.  And  if  it  be  objected  that  a  little 
life  is  able  to  do  such  a  great  deal,  the  answer  is  that  a  like 
thing  happens  in  fermentation.  When  a  certain  organic  sub- 
stance makes  the  inorganic  matter  in  contact  with  it  become 
organic,  it  may  be  that  it  does  so  by  a  kind  of  infection  or 
fermentation  by  which  the  molecular  relations  of  its  smallest 
particles  are  transferred  to  the  particles  of  the  inorganic  just 
as  in  the  inorganic  world  forces  pass  from  matter  to  matter. 

But  there  are  further  considerations.  Admitting  that  tlie 
vital  transforming  matter  is  at  first  derived  from  vital  struct- 

p^cnliar  so-called  vital  force."  And  again  :  "The  difficulty  of  satisfactorily 
referring  the  vital  phenomena  of  organism  to  physical  and  chemical  laws 
depends  chiefly  (and  almost  in  the  same  manner  as  the  prediction  of  mete- 
orological processes  in  the  atmosphere)  on  the  complication  of  the  phenom- 
ena, and  on  the  great  number  of  the  simultaneously- acting  forces,  as  well  &a 
the  conditions  of  their  activity." 
11 


238  THE  THEORY 

are,  it  is  evident  that  the  external  force  and  matter  trans- 
formed does  in  turn  become  transforming  force — that  is,  vital. 
And  if  that  takes  place  after  the  vital  process  lias  once  com- 
menced^ is  it,  it  may  be  asked,  extravagant  to  suppose  that  a 
similar  transformation  might  at  some  period  have  commenced 
the  process,  and  may  even  now  be  doing  so  ?  The  fact  that  in 
growth  and  development  life  is  continually  increasing,  from  a 
transformation  of  physical  and  chemical  forces,  is  after  all  in 
favor  of  the  presumption  that  it  may  at  first  have  so  origi- 
nated. And  the  advocate  of  this  view  may  turn  upon  his 
opponent,  and  demand  of  him  how  he,  with  a  due  regard  to 
the  axiom  that  force  is  not  self-generating,  and  to  the  fact 
that  living  matter  does  increase  from  the  size  of  a  little  cell 
to  the  magnitude  of  a  human  body,  accounts  for  the  continual 
production  of  transforming  power?  A  definite  quantity  only 
could  have  been  derived  from  the  mother  structure,  and  that 
must  have  been  exhausted  at  an  early  period  of  growth.  The 
obvious  refuge  of  the  vitalist  is  to  the  facts  that  it  is  impossi- 
ble now  to  evolve  life  artificially  out  of  any  combination  of 
physical  and  chemical  forces,  and  that  such  a  transformation 
is  never  witnessed  save  under  the  conditions  of  vitality. 

Thus  the  argument  stands.  Meanwhile,  those  who  do 
believe  in  the  origination  of  life  from  non-living  matter  hope 
to  succeed  in  artificially  producing  the  upward  transforma- 
tion, and  may  say  reasonably  enough  that  it  is  not  to  be  ex- 
pected that  such  transformation  should  now  take  place  as  a 
regular  process  in  iN'ature,  except  under  conditions  of  vitality. 
Sach  a  supposition  is  as  unnecessary  as  it  would  be  to  assume 
that  the  savage  must  continue  to  rub  together  his  sticks,  after 
he  has  obtained  the  spark,  in  order  to  make  the  fire  burn. 
What  only  is  necessary  is  that  the  spark  of  fire,  or  the  spark 
of  life,  once  evolved,  should  be  placed  under  suitable  condi- 
tions, and  it  wiU  then  go  on  increasing.  The  minutest  portion 
of  living  matter  really  now  contains  implicitly,  as  it  were  in  a 
microcosm,  the  complexity  of  chemical  and  physical  combina- 
tions and  the  conditions  which  were  necessary  for  the  first 


OF   VITALITY.  239 

production  of  life  in  the  macrocosm,  and  it  supjjlies  these  as 
the  conditions  of  further  vital  transformations.  In  fact,  Na- 
ture, having  accomplished  a  result,  does  not  need  on  each  fu- 
ture occasion  to  go  through  the  preliminary  steps  by  which 
the  result  was  first  arrived  at.  And  in  this  relation  it  is  very 
interesting  to  observe  how  much  use  is  made  of  the  force 
supplied  by  the  destruction  of  certain  organic  matter  in  rais- 
ing other  matter  to  a  higher  stage.  It  is  supposed,  for  ex- 
ample, that  urea  is  partly  produced  by  the  oxidation  of  an 
excess  of  so-called  albuminous  matters  in  the  blood,  without 
tliese  having  entered  into  the  formation  of  tissue ;  and  the 
force  thus  supplied  in  the  retrograde  metamorphosis  will  be 
available,  and  probably  is  used,  for  the  exaltation  of  other 
elements. 

It  needs  but  little  consideration  to  see  that  the  living  cell 
cannot  supply  all  the  force  which  is  used  in  increasing  and 
advancing  life — in  the  multiplication  and  transformation  of 
cells;  heat  and  other  external  conditions  are  necessary,  as 
being,  so  to  speak,  material  for  transformation.  It  is  a  mis- 
take, however,  to  say,  as  some  have  said,  that  heat  and  ex- 
ternal conditions  determine  the  rate  of  growth.  The  rate  of 
germination,  for  example,  certainly  varies  according  to  exter- 
nal conditions,  but  the  limits  of  variation  are  fixed  by  the 
inherent  properties  of  the  structure.  The  seeds  of  a  begonia 
taken  from  the  same  pod  will,  as  Mr.  Paget  has  pointed  out, 
germinate,  some  in  a  day,  some  at  the  end  of  a  year,  and 
some  at  various  intermediate  times,  even  when  they  are  all 
placed  under  the  same  external  conditions.  And  the  same 
author  has  pointed  out  other  indications  of  self-dependent 
time-rates  in  the  lower  organisms.  There  are,  in  fact,  inter- 
nal as  well  as  external  conditions  of  growth,  and  the  former 
are  the  more  important,  for  they  are  really  the  determining 
conditions.  It  is  with  the  organic  cell  and  its  conditions  as 
it  is  with  the  individual  and  his  circumstances ;  the  latter  may 
greatly  modify  character,  and  are  necessary  for  development, 
but  the  essential  fact,  which  determines  the  limit  of  the  motli- 


240  THE  THEORY 

fjing  power  of  circumstances,  is  the  nature  implanted  in  the 
individual. 

It  is  easy  to  perceive  how  impossible  it  is,  in  the  present 
state  of  science,  to  come  to  any  positive  conclusion  with  re- 
gard to  the  nature  of  the  vital  force.  All  that  can  be  said  is, 
tliat  advancing  knowledge  more  and  more  clearly  proves  the 
dependence  of  life  on  physical  and  chemical  processes,  and 
tends  to  show  that  vital  action  does  not  contrast  with  the 
kind  of  action  exhibited  by  inorganic  Nature.  Living  matter 
displays,  in  fact,  the  energy  of  colloidal  and  the  plan  of  crys- 
talloidal  matter.  "When  vital  force  undergoes  resolution  into 
inferior  force,  simultaneously  with  the  decomposition  of  sub- 
stance, it  is  into  heat,  chemical  force,  and  electricity,  that  we 
find  it,  as  it  were,  unfolded;  it  is  a  natural  conjecture,  there- 
fore, that  the  conditions  of  the  artificial  production  of  vitality 
must  be  a  high  and  complex  chemistry  to  represent  the  stat- 
ical correlative,  and  some  mode  of  repulsion  force,  as  heat 
or  electricity,  or  both,  to  represent  the  dynamical  correla- 
tive. It  is  certainly  extremely  unphilosophical  in  the  present 
condition  of  knowledge  to  refuse  to  accept  vitality  as  a 
special  mode  of  manifestation  of  force;  the  special  character 
of  its  phenomena  demand  that,  whatever  its  real  nature  may 
be,  vital  force  should  for  the  present  be  received  as  a  distinct 
force  on  the  same  terms  as  chemical  force  or  electrical  force. 
The  facts  of  observation,  as  well  as  a  'priori  considerations, 
unquestionably  demand  also  that  it  should  be  regarded  as 
subject  to  the  laws  of  the  correlation  and  conservation  of 
force. 

As,  then,  vital  force  is  jjlainly  by  far  the  highest  force  in 
dignity,  a  small  quantity  of  it  will  correspond  in  value  to  a 
much  greater  quantity  of  an  inferior  force ;  one  equivalent 
of  vital  force,  in  fact,  will  correspond  to  many  equivalents 
of  the  lower  forces.  An  immense  amount  of  force  is  re- 
quired to  raise  matter  from  its  elementary  state  to  that  con- 
dition in  which  it  is  described  as  organic ;  and  the  upward 
transformation  evidently  only  takes  place  through  the  inter- 


OF  VITALITY  241 

mediate  action  of  cliemical  force.  But  vital  force  surpasses 
chemical  force  apparently  in  as  great  a  degree  as  chemical 
force  surpasses  physical  force.  How  great,  then,  must  be  its 
mechanical  equivalent!  Who  can  measure  the  power  of  a 
great  idea?  Armies  fight  in  vain  against  it,  and  natioDS 
yield  to  its  sway.  What  wonder  that  life  was  the  last  and 
highest  development  of  Nature,  and  that  it  was  produced 
only  after  the  inferior  forces  had  been  long  m  existence ! 
What  ground,  furthermore,  it  might  be  asked,  have  we  for 
supposing  that  It  is  destined  to  be  tlie  last  development  of 
force  ?  Is  it  not  possible  that  a  still  higher  manifestation  of 
force  than  that  which  we  call  vital  may  ultnnately  result 
from  the  complexity  of  forces  and  conditions  which  are  now 
present  on  earth?  The  hypothesis  of  Laplnce  was,  that  in 
primeval  times  a  large  quantity  of  nebulous  matter  was 
spread  through  space.  This  nebulous  matter  was  through 
gravitation  aggregated  into  solid  masses,  immense  heat  must 
have  been  thus  produced,  and  this  heat  might  then  produce 
light,  and  develop  electricity  as  it  does  now  when  acting  on 
the  thermo-electric  plates.  Electricity  might  appear  again 
as  heat  or  as  light,  or  as  chemical  force,  as  it  does  in  the  de- 
composing cell  of  a  voltaic  battery.  The  correlation  of  these 
forces  we  are  able  to  trace  now,  and  it  is  not  difficult  to  con- 
ceive how  they  mutually  excited  and  affected  one  another  in 
the  primeval  times  when  the  earth  was,  as  we  are  told, 
without  form  and  void.  But  there  was  a  time  when  no  life 
existed  on  the  earth.  So  that  as  we  can  now  obtain  one 
force  from  another  up  to  the  point  where  life  begins,  when 
we  are  at  fault,  similarly  considerable  time  elapsed  in  ISTature 
before  vital  force  followed  on  the  physical  and  chemical 
forces.  Science  may,  then,  claim  that  in  its  difficulty  and 
delay  it  only  reflects  a  corresponding  difficulty  in  N'ature. 

But  there  are  other  important  considerations  with  regard 
to  vitality.  It  does  not  follow,  because  we  recognize  a  special 
vital  manifestation,  that  there  is  but  one  kind  thereof;  it  is  in 
reality  necessary  to  admit  different  degrees,  if  not  different 


242  THE  THEORY 

kinds,  of  vitality.  As  with  organic  matter  so  with  organic 
force,  we  trace  an  advance  from  the  most  simple  and  general 
to  the  most  complex  and  special.  The  tissue  of  the  simple 
protozoon  is  uniform  and  exhibits  no  trace  of  structure ;  its 
active  relations  are  equally  simple.  In  the  ascending  scale 
of  life  continuous  diff^entiation  of  tissue  corresponds  with 
increasing  specialty  and  complexity  of  relation  with  the  ex- 
ternal, until  in  man  we  observe  the  highest  example  of  a 
unity  of  organism  proceeding  from  manifold  varieties  of  ele- 
ments, and  of  unity  of  action  from  the  coordination  of  many 
forces.  And  as  it  is  with  the  animal  kingdom,  so  it  is  with  the 
elementary  structures  which  form  it ;  there  is  a  scale  of  dignity, 
a  hierarchy  of  tissues ;  the  lowest  appear  first,  and  are  neces- 
sary steps  for  the  evolution  of  the  highest.  All  the  force  of 
Kature  could  not  develop  a  nerve-cell  directly  out  of  inor- 
ganic matter;  and  the  cell  of  the  Protococcua  nivalis^  or  the 
molecules  of  the  Amoeba,  could  not,  under  any  possible  cir- 
cumstances, energize  as  nerve-force.  Between  the  vitality 
of  thought  and  the  vitality  of  the  fungus  there  is  scarcely  a 
comparison  possible ;  the  former  is  dependent  upon  the  widest 
and  most  complex,  and  at  the  same  time  the  most  intense  and 
special  relations  with  external  Nature,  while  the  latter  exhibits 
only  a  few  general  and  comparatively  simple  relations  there- 
with. Between  the  relations  of  a  nerve-cell  and  an  epidermic 
cell  with  their  surroundings,  there  is  as  much  difference  as 
there  is  between  the  relations  of  a  Ehizopod  and  those  of  a 
Cephalopod  with  external  Nature.  And  the  relations  of  a 
nerve-cell  with  its  surroundings  are,  it  must  be  remembered, 
dependent  on  the  maintenance  of  the  relations  of  all  the  in- 
ferior elements  of  the  body  which  intervene  in  the  descending 
scale  between  it  and  the  inorganic. 

"Whatever,  then,  may  be  the  fact  in  animal  development, 
it  is  certain  that  transformation  of  species  takes  place  in  the 
structural  elements.  When  a  tissue  takes  material  from  the 
blood,  it  does  not  merely  aggregate,  but  it  assimilates  it— 
that  is,  it  makes  it  of  the  same  Tcind  with  itself.     In  develop- 


OF  VITALITY.  243 

ment,  a  higher  tissue  constantly  proceeds  from  a  lower  one, 
and  demands  the  lower  one  as  a  necessary  antecedent  to  its 
production ;  it  has  thus,  as  external  conditions,  not  only 
those  which  are  general,  but  the  intimate  and  special  influ- 
ences of  the  tissue  which  is  before  it  in  the  order  of  existence. 
In  the  latter  are  supplied  the  special  and  essential  conditions 
for  the  exaltation  and  transpeciation  of  force  and  material. 
But  all  exaltation  of  force  is,  as  it  were,  a  concentration  of 
it ;  one  equivalent  of  the  higher  force  corresponds  to  many 
equivalents  of  the  inferior  force  which  has  been  transformed. 
Hence  it  is  that  the  power  of  reproducing  tissues  or  parts  in 
animals  is  diminished  much  more  by  development  than  by 
growth ;  and  the  law  which  describes  the  reparative  power 
in  each  species  of  animal  as  being  in  an  inverse  ratio  to  its 
position  in  the  scale  of  life,  though  not  strictly  proved,  is  yet 
true  as  a  general  proposition. 

If,  now,  the  degree  of  dignity  of  an  element  represents  a 
corresponding  degree  of  vitality,  it  is  obviously  right  to  speak 
of  the  life  of  the  blood,  without  any  design  of  placing  its  life 
on  the  same  level  with  that  of  nerve.  In  the  decomposition 
of  material  and  the  correlative  resolution  of  force  which  take 
place  when  the  blood-cell  returns  to  the  inorganic  state,  there 
will  be  much  less  force  liberated  than  when  a  nerve-cell  un- 
dergoes the  retrograde  metamorphosis.  As  a  great  expendi- 
ture of  force  is  needed  to  raise  matter  from  the  inorganic  to 
the  organic  state,  so  a  further  greater  expenditure  is  required 
to  raise  matter  from  a  low  organic  to  its  highest  organic  con- 
dition. The  nerve-cell  is,  so  to  say,  the  highest  parasite 
which  thus  sucks  up  the  life  of  the  blood ;  and,  if  the  process 
of  its  decomposition  were  accurately  observed,  it  would  be 
found  that  all  the  force  which  had  been  consumed  by  it  in  its 
upward  transformation  was  given  back  to  ITature  in  its  down- 
ward metamorphosis. 

The  retrograde  metamorphosis  of  organic  elements  is  con- 
stantly taking  place  as  a  part  of  the  history  of  life.  In  the 
fanction  of  nerve-cell,  a  nerve-force  is  liberated  which  exciteg 


244  THE   THEORY 

muscnlar  force,  and  is  ultimately  given  back  to  external  Na- 
ture as  motion  ;  the  coincident  "  waste  "  of  substance  is  re- 
ceived into  the  blood,  and  ultimately  also  passes  back  to 
Nature.  It  is  probable,  however,  that  this  "  waste  "  does 
not  pass  always  directly  out  of  the  body,  but  that  it  may  be 
first  used  as  the  nutriment  of  some  lower  element.  Thus,  as 
there  seemed  reason  to  believe  that,  in  the  economy  of  Na- 
ture, animal  matter  did  not  undergo  the  extreme  retrograde 
metamorphosis  into  inorganic  matter  before  being  used  as  food 
by  vegetables,  so  in  the  animal  body  the  higher  elements  do  not 
appear  at  once  to  undergo  the  extreme  retrograde  metamor- 
phosis, but  are  first  used  as  the  nutriment  of  lower  organic 
element.  How  admirably  does  Nature  thus  economize  in  the 
body!  Just  as  on  a  larger  scale  the  carbonic  acid  exhaled 
by  animals  is  taken  up  by  vegetables,  and  a  poison  thus  re- 
moved from  the  atmosphere  in  which  the  animal  lives,  so  by 
one  organic  element  of  the  body  the  blood  is  purified  from 
the  waste  matter  of  a  higher  element  which  would  be  poison- 
ous to  it. 

The  parts  impaired  by  activity,  as  all  parts  mast  be,  are 
repaired  during  rest  in  a  condition  of  health.  And  it  is 
very  interesting  to  observe,  as  Mr.  Paget  has  pointed  out, 
that  the  organic  processes  of  repair  in  each  tissue  are  ad- 
justed to  a  certain  time-rate,  which  is  variable  according  to, 
but  is  not  determined  by,  external  conditions.  The  time-rate 
is  determined  by  the  implanted  properties,  and  "for  each 
unit  of  nutrition  might  be  reckoned  a  unit  of  time."  The 
periodicities  of  organic  life  appear  to  be  prominent  instances 
of  the  law;  and  the  rhythmic  motions  of  the  heart,  or  the 
motions  of  cilia,  are,  Mr.  Paget  supposes,  due  "to  a  method 
of  nutrition  in  which  the  acting  parts  are,  at  certain  peri- 
ods, raised  Avith  time-regulated  progress  to  a  state  of  instabil- 
ity of  composition  from  which  they  then  decline,  and  in  their 
decline  may  change  their  shape  and  move  with  a  definite  velo- 
city, or  (as  nervous  centres)  may  discharge  nerve-force."  *    In 

*  On  the  Chronometry  of  Life.    By  J.  Paget,  P.  R.  S.    (Croonian  Lec- 
ture before  the  Royal  Society,  1857.) 


OF    VITALITY.  245 

this  recognition  of  the  chronometrj  of  organic  processes, 
there  is  unquestionably  great  promise  for  the  future ;  for  it 
is  plain  that  the  observance  of  time  in  the  motions  of  organic 
molecules  is  as  certain  and  universal,  if  not  as  exact,  as  that 
in  the  motions  of  heavenly  bodies.  Each  organic  process 
has  its  definite  time-rate;  and  each  cell  has  its  appointed  pe- 
riod of  life  different  for  different  kinds  'of  cells.  The  exer- 
cise of  its  energy  is  the  accomplishment  of  the  life-task  of  the 
gland-cell  of  the  stomach,  and  its  existence  ends  therewith — it 
discharges  its  duty  with  its  life  ;  but  it  is  not  so  with  other 
cells.  It  is  not  known,  for  example,  how  soon  the  blood-cell  and 
other  cells  die.  The  blood-cell  may  be  ephemeral,  and  after 
the  manufacture  of  its  material  straightway  perish,  supplying 
in  the  products  of  its  decomposition  material  for  the  coloring 
matters  of  the  bile;  or  it  may  accomplish  its  function  more 
than  once,  and  live  tlierefore  for  some  time.  Certain  facts 
do,  indeed,  point  to  a  short  duration,  as,  for  example,  the  de- 
struction of  the  nucleus  in  the  blood-cell,  the  analogy  of  the 
cells  of  the  stomach  and  milk-glands,  and  of  the  sebaceous 
and  spermatic  cells,  and  the  great  production  of  blood-cells ; 
but  nothing  positive  is  known,  and  the  subject  is  one  which 
awaits,  and  ought  to  receive,  careful  attention. 

Such,  then,  is  the  general  process  of  life  physiologically 
regarded.  But  there  is  nothing  special  in  disease.  Although 
the  destructive  cancerous  mass  seems  at  first  sight  to  admit 
of  no  sort  of  comparison  with  the  beneficial  formation  of  a 
developing  organ,  yet  the  production  is  governed  by  laws  of 
organic  growth  and  activity.  No  new  forces  nor  new  laws 
appear  in  the  organism  under  the  circumstances  which  are  de- 
scribed as  disease.  "  'Tis  as  natural  to  die  as  to  be  born,"  says 
Sir  T.  Browne ;  and,  if  we  choose  to  accept  the  doctrine  of  final 
cause,  we  must  acknowledge  that  the  disease  which  leads  to 
death  is  as  natural,  as  much  in  the  purpose  of  Nature,  as  the 
physiological  processes  which  constitute  health.  An  indi- 
vidual exists  in  certain  relations  with  the  external,  and  the 
harmony  which  results  from  the  maintenance  of  these  rela* 


246  THE  THEORY 

tions  is  health,  -vrhile  a  disturbance  of  them,  whether  from  a 
cause  in  the  organism  or  in  the  external  circumstances,  or 
partly  in  one  and  partly  in  the  other,  is  discord  or  disease. 
The  phenomena  of  morbid  action  may  therefore,  when  prop- 
erly regarded,  be  serviceable  as  experiments  illustrating  the 
character  and  relations  of  vital  action. 

As  each  cell  has  its  appointed  period  of  life,  and  each 
species  of  cell  its  natural  degree  of  life,  and  as  there  are 
many  cells  and  many  kinds  of  cells  in  the  human  body,  it  is 
evident  that  disease  will  be  more  easily  initiated  in  it  than  in 
an  organism  with  less  differentiation  of  tissue,  and  less  com- 
plexity of  structure.  For  the  life  of  the  organism  is  the  sum 
of  the  life  of  its  individual  parts,  and  superiority  of  vitality 
signifies  more  numerous,  special,  and  complex  relations  with 
the  external.  In  the  lowest  organisms,  where  there  is  a 
similarity  of  structure,  one  part  is  independent  of  another, 
and  dependent  only  on  the  maintenance  of  certain  general 
and  simple  relations  with  the  external ;  there  is,  therefore, 
comparatively  little  liability  to  disturbance.*  When  the  parts 
are,  however,  unlike,  and  there  is  a  definite  subordination  of 
them,  so  that  the  well-being  of  the  highest  structure  is  de- 
pendent on  the  well-being  of  all  the  structures  which  inter- 
vene in  the  descending  scale  between  it  and  inorganic  JSTature, 
there  is  plainly  abundant  room  for  disturbance.  As  in  the 
state,  so  in  the  organism,  the  vitality  of  the  government  flows 
from,  and  rests  upon,  the  well-being  of  individuals. 

When,  from  some  of  the  many  disturbing  causes  which 
initiate  disease,  a  particular  elementary  constituent  of  the 
body  is  prevented  from  rising  to  the  dignity  of  its  specific 
constitution  and  energy,  there  will,  if  the  disturbing  cause 

*  Goethe,  after  saying  that  every  thing  living  is  a  collection  of  living, 
Belf-dependent  beings,  adds:  "Je  unvolkommner  das  Geschopf  ist,  desto 
mehr  sind  diese  Theile  einander gleich  Oder  almlich,  und  desto mehr gleichen 
Bie  dem  Ganzen.  Je  volkommnpr  das  Geschopf  wird,  desto  unahnlicher 
werden  die  Theile  einander.  Je  ahnlicher  die  Theile  einander  sind,  desto 
weniger  sind  sie  einander  subordinirt.  Die  Subordiaation  der  Theile  deutet 
Ruf  ein  volkommneres  Geschopf." 


OF   VITALITY.  247 

has  not  been  so  serious  as  to  destroy  tlie  life  of  the  part,  be  a 
production  of  an  element  of  a  lower  kind  with  a  lower  en- 
ergy ;  and  that  is  a  diseased  product.  It  is  as  if  the  substance 
of  a  polype  were  produced  among  the  higher  physiological 
elements  of  the  human  body,  and  went  on  increasing  there 
without  regard  to  relations  with  surrounding  elements  of 
tissue.  There  may  be  a  production  of  foreign  substance  in 
larger  quantity  than  that  which  should  rightly  be  formed  of 
the  natural  tissue,  and  a  greater  display  of  force,  but  both 
structure  and  energy  are  of  a  lower  order.  What  is  gained 
in  quantity  is  lost  in  quality,  and  the  vitality  is  intrinsically 
less. 

Inflammation  in  a  part  is  really  the  result  of  a  degenera- 
tion of  its  vitality.  When  a  wound  heals  by  the  "  first  inten- 
tion,^' there  is  direct  adhesion  of  its  surfaces,  and  no  inflam- 
mation, for  the  natural  vitality  of  the  part  is  maintained,  and 
effects  the  repair.  "When  slight  inflammation  occurs,  the  vi- 
tality of  the  part  has  undergone  a  certain  degeneration,  and 
material  of  an  inferior  order  to  the  proper  element  of  the  part 
is  produced ;  this  substance  binds  the  surfaces  together,  and 
it  may  in  process  of  time,  on  the  complete  subsidence  of  in- 
flammation, and  under  the  favorable  conditions  of  surround- 
ing healthy  tissue  life,  even  rise  to  the  condition  of  the  proper 
structure.  But  the  lymph  does  not  appear  to  be  thrown  out 
with  any  special  beneficial  design ;  it  is  the  simple  result  of 
a  deterioration  of  energy,  is  only  a  less  degree  of  a  positive 
evil.  When  greater  inflammation  takes  place,  or  when  the 
natural  vitality  of  the  part  is  feeble,  there  is  a  greater  degen- 
eration, and  material  of  a  still  lower  kind,  which  is  not  even 
organizable  under  any  circumstances,  is  produced.  Pus  is 
poured  out,  and  ceases  to  appear  with  the  restoration  of  the 
proper  vitality  of  the  tissue.  If  the  inflammation  is  still 
greater,  the  degeneration  passes  into  actual  destruction  of 
ufe,  and  mortification  ensues.  When  John  Hunter,  therefore, 
speaks,  as  he  does,  of  Nature  calling  up  the  vital  powers  to 
produce  suppuration,  his  words  convey  a  false  notion  of  what 


248  THE  THEORY 

really  happens.  The  injury  has  so  damaged  the  parts  that 
the  vital  action  cannot  rise  to  its  specific  elevation ;  an  in- 
ferior kind  of  action  is  alone  possible,  which  is  really  disease, 
and  only  so  far  beneficial  as  it  proves  that  the  life  of  the  part 
has  not  been  killed  outright.  As  might  be  expected,  there- 
fore, it  is  in  exhausting  diseases  that  inflammation  most  com- 
monly and  easily  occurs.  How  incorrect,  then,  is  it  to  speak 
of  inflammation  as  if  it  were  a  process  specially  provided  for 
restoring  the  healthy  life  of  parts !  When  adhesive  inflamma- 
tion is  said  to  limit  the  suppuration  of  an  abscess,  its  occur- 
rence is  a  result  of  diminishing  mischief,  and  testifies  to  a  less 
serious  degeneration  of  vital  force.  How  hard  it  is  not  to  be 
blind  when  theories  or  wishes  lead  us !  When  adhesive  in- 
flammation fixes  a  piece  of  strangulated  gut  to  the  side  of  the 
belly,  so  as  happily  to  prevent  the  passage  of  fecal  matter 
into  the  peritoneal  cavity,  it  is  sometimes  said  to  be  a  wise 
and  kindly  provision  of  Is  ature.  "What,  then,  shall  be  said 
of  inflammation  when  it  glues  the  gut  to  a  hernial  cavity,  or 
manufactures  a  fibrous  band  which  strangles  the  gut  ?  Is  this 
also  a  wise  and  beneficial  design  ? 

That  which  is  true  of  the  material  products  of  inflamma- 
tion is  necessarily  true  of  its  force ;  the  heat,  and  pain,  and 
rigors,  the  forces  as  well  as  the  material,  testify  to  a  degenera- 
tion of  vital  force.  The  sort  of  stormy  rage  and  demonstra- 
tive activity  which  characterize  inflammation,  though  unques- 
tionably an  exhibition  of  force,  are  not  really  an  increased 
display  of  the  proper  vital  force.  The  latter  has  undergone 
a  transformation  from  the  quiet,  self-contained  activity  of 
development  into  the  unrestrained  dissipation  of  a  lower  ac- 
tivity :  and,  as  regards  the  latter,  it  might  be  said  that  sev- 
eral monads  of  its  matter,  or  volumes  of  its  force,  are  equiva- 
lent only  to  one  monad  of  matter  or  one  volume  of  force  of 
the  former.  Kigors,  as  the  involuntary  action  of  voluntary 
muscle,  are  a  degradation  of  action  witnessing  to  a  molecular 
deterioration  of  vital  conditions.  Heat  is  a  physical  force 
which  must  have  resulted  from  the  retrograde  metamorphosia 


OF  VITALITY.  249 

of  vital  force.  The  existence  of  pain,  where  rightly  there 
should  be  no  sensation,  testifies  to  a  molecular  deterioration 
of  statical  element  and  a  correlative  exhibition  of  force.  The 
increased  action  of  inflammation  in  a  part  is,  therefore,  di- 
minished vital  action.  Perhaps  it  might  once  for  all  be 
stated,  as  a  law  of  vital  action,  that  the  dignity  of  the  force 
is  in  an  inverse  ratio  to  its  volumetrical  display.  It  is  indeed 
■with  organic  action  as  it  is  with  mental  action.  The  emo- 
tional man  displays  considerable  force,  and  often  produces 
great  effects  in  the  way  of  destruction,  but  his  power  is  vast- 
ly inferior  to  that  of  the  man  who  has  developed  emotion  a. 
force  into  the  higher  form  of  will-force,  who  has  coordinated 
the  passions  into  the  calm,  self-contained  activity  of  definite 
productive  aim.  Surely  creation  always  testifies  to  a  much 
higher  energy  than  destruction. 

The  foregoing  considerations  unavoidably  flow  from  a 
conception  of  vitality  as  correlate  with  other  natural  forces, 
and  as  subject  to  the  law  of  the  conservation  of  force.  They 
obtain  additional  weight,  however,  from  being  in  some  ac- 
cordance with  the  important  generalizations  which  one  of 
the  most  philosophical  physiologists  of  the  present  time  has 
made  with  regard  to  morbid  products.  Virchow  has,  as  is 
well  known,  referred  all  morbid  structures  to  physiological 
types,  and  maintains  that  there  is  no  new  structure  produced 
in  the  organism  by  disease.  The  cancer-cell,  the  pus-cell, 
and  all  other  disease-produced  cells,  have  their  patterns  in 
the  cells  of  healthy  structure.  The  cells  of  tubercle  corre- 
spond with  the  corpuscles  of  the  lymphatic  glands ;  pus  and 
colorless  blood-corpuscles  cannot  be  distinguished  except  by 
looking  at  the  place  whence  they  come ;  the  cells  of  cancer 
in  bone  "  are  the  immediate  descendants  of  the  cells  in  bone ;  " 
and  certain  colloid  tumors  have  the  structure  of  the  umbilical 
cord.  "Where  a  new  formation  takes  place,  certain  histolo- 
gical elements  of  the  body  must  generally  also  cease  to  exist ;  " 
and  every  kind  of  new  formation  is  really,  therefore,  destruc- 
tive, and  destroys  something  of  what  previously  existed.    The 


250  THE   THEORY 

connective  tissue,  with  its  equivalents,  he  describes  as  the 
'common  stock  of  germs  of  the  body ;  from  them  morbid 
structures  proceed  bj  continuous  development.  "  Heterolo- 
gous tissues  have  physiological  types  ;  and  there  is  no  other 
kind  of  heterology  in  morbid  structures  than  the  abnormal 
manner  in  which  they  arise  as  to  place  (heterotopia),  time 
(heterochronia),  and  quantity  (heterometria)."  * 

The  conclusions  with  regard  to  vital  force,  which  a  con- 
sistent conception  of  it  as  a  natural  force  seems  to  necessi- 
tate, will  find  extensive  application  in  the  various  phenomena 
of  disease.  We  have  seen  that  if  the  resolution  of  the  vital- 
ity of  a  single  nerve-cell  into  a  vitality  of  a  lower  kind  be 
supposed — into  that,  for  example,  of  polype  substance — it 
would  necessarily  suffice  for  the  production  of  a  whole 
polype,  or  perhaps  of  a  multitude  of  polypes.  In  other 
words,  one  nervous  unit,  monad,  or  molecule,  is  the  vital 
equivalent  of  many  units,  monads,  or  molecules  of  polype 
substance.  How  idle  it  is,  then,  to  dispute,  as  some  have 
done,  as  to  whether  epilepsy  is  increased  vital  action  or 
diminished  vital  action,  when  there  exists  no  clear  conception 
of  what  is  meant  by  the  words  !  No  one  can  deny  that  there 
is  great  display  of  force  in  the  convulsions  of  epilepsy,  but  is 
it  increased  vital  force  ?  Is  a  man  in  convulsions  a  strong 
man  ?  for  that  is  the  real  question.  Does  convulsion  in  a 
paralyzed  limb  indicate  increased  vital  action  of  it  ?  When 
tetanus  of  a  muscle  is  produced,  as  Weber  showed  it  might 
be,  by  putting  a  loop  of  thread  round  its  nerve  and  slowly 
and  gradually  tightening  it,  does  the  violent  action  of  the 
muscle  testify  to  increased  vitality  ?  If  it  really  does,  then 
the  mechanical  tetanomotor  of  Heidenhain  might,  properly 
used,  suffice  for  the  cure  of  every  paralysis,  and  effect  a  com- 
plete renewal  of  life. 

In  speaking  of  vital  action,  we  may  either  consider  the 
whole  organism  as  individual,  or  we  may  consider  the  cell  or 
organic  monad  as  the  individual.  If  we  regard  the  organism 
*  Cellular  Patholo^fy. 


OF  VITALITY.  251 

as  individual,  then  when  general  convulsions  take  place  in  it — 
that  is,  violent  and  aimless  movements  completely  withdrawn 
from  the  control  of  the  will,  which  should  rightly  coordinate 
them  into  definite  action — it  is  simply  to  use  words  without 
meaning  to  say  that  the  vital  action  of  the  individual  is  in- 
creased. There  is  not,  then,  individual  action ;  and  the  defi- 
nition of  vitality  is  not  applicable  to  the  organism  as  a  whole. 
The  highest  manifestation  of  individuality  is  in  the  conscious- 
ness of  man,  the  so-called  unity  of  the  ego ;  but,  when  the 
coordination  of  forces  for  a  definite  end  is  replaced  by  the 
convulsions  of  epilepsy,  there  is  neither  subjective  nor  ob- 
jective unity  of  action.  Instead  of  that  quiet  will-force  which 
expresses  conscious  unity,  or  that  unconscious  unity  of  or- 
ganic action  which  is  manifest  in  sleep,  there  is  the  violent 
and  incoherent  exhibition  of  inferior  force.  Increased  action 
is  the  result  of  a  degeneration  of  the  proper  vital  action.  "  A 
man  in  convulsions  is  not  strong,  though  six  men  cannot  hold 
him." 

Like  considerations  apply  when  the  single  cell  is  regarded 
as  individual.  In  virtue  of  a  certain  chemical  constitution 
and  a  certain  definite  arrangement  of  molecules,  a  cell  ex- 
hibits energy  as  nerve-force.  That  special  mode  of  energy  is 
the  definite  result  of  a  certain  coordination  of  chemical  com- 
binations and  molecular  relations ;  and  these  are  connoted  in 
the  individuality  of  the  cell.  When,  however,  in  place  of 
the  definite  process  of  statical  attraction  (nutrition)  and  dy- 
namical repulsion  (energy),  there  takes  place  a  large  demon- 
strative display  of  force — as  general  epileptic  convulsions, 
being  the  sum  of  the  action  of  the  individual  cells,  prove 
there  must — it  is  impossible  to  pronounce  such  force  as  of 
the  same  rank  or  kind  as  the  proper  energy  of  the  cell.  It  is 
an  inferior  kind  of  power,  and  the  certain  indication  of  a  de- 
generation of  the  statical  correlative.  It  is  the  duty  of  a  cell, 
so  to  speak,  as  of  an  individual,  to  live  in  certain  relations 
with  its  surroundings — it  is,  indeed,  its  essence  as  an  individ- 
uaX  cell  of  specific  character ;  and,  when  it  is  not  so  living,  it 


252  THE   THEORY 

is  really  degenerating,  losing  its  nature  or  kind,  passing  more 
or  less  quickly  toward  death.  Its  action  is  certainly  not  in- 
creased functional  action.  In  truth,  it  would  be  as  just  to 
caU  the  extravagant  action  of  madness  in  an  individual  occu- 
pying a  certain  position  in  a  system  of  government  increased 
functional  action,  and  to  say  that  the  government  was  stronger 
for  his  degenerate  action.  A  state,  again,  would  not  be  pow- 
erful, would  not  even  exist,  if  each  individual  did  as  his  pas- 
sions prompted,  altogether  regardless  of  his  relations  to 
others;  and  it  would  certainly  be  a  strange  use  of  language 
to  say  then  that  the  functional  action  of  that  individual  was 
increased. 

The  phenomena  of  conscious  vitality  might  be  used  to 
illustrate  the  same  principles.  A  passionate  man  is  not 
strong-minded,  nor  do  the  ravings  of  insanity  reveal  mental 
vigor.  A  completely-fashioned  will  is  the  true  mark  of  a 
strong  mind.  "  A  character,"  said  ITovalis,  "  is  a  completely- 
fashioned  will."  As  in  the  order  of  natural  development 
there  has  been  an  ascent  from  the  physical  and  chemical 
forces  to  the  aim-working  vital  force,  and  thence  from  the 
lowest  vitality  to  the  higliest  manifestation  thereof,  so  in  the 
course  of  mental  development  there  is  a  progress  through 
sensation,  passion,  emotion,  reason,  to  the  highest  phase  of 
mental  force,  a  well-fashioned  will.  The  rightly-developed 
mind,  like  the  healthy  cell,  recognizes  its  relations  to  others ; 
self-feeling  gives  place  to  or  expands  into  moral  feeling,  and 
in  the  will  all  the  phases  of  consciousness  are  coordinated 
into  calm,  just,  definite  action.  K'oise  and  fury  surely  indi- 
cate weakness ;  the«y  are  the  manifestation  of  inferior  force 
— the  tale  of  an  idiot  signifying  nothing.  The  strongest  force 
is  quiet  force,  and  the  ravings  of  insanity,  which  might  not 
unjustly  be  compared  to  the  convulsions  of  epilepsy,  do  not 
evince  mental  power. 

May  we  not,  then,  already  perceive,  what  advancing 
knowledge  must  ever  render  more  clear,  how  the  conscious 
mind  of  man  blends  in  unity  of  development  with  the  nn- 


OF   VITALITY.  253 

conscious  life  of  Nature?  As  the  revelation  of  Nature  pro- 
ceeds in  the  progress  of  science,  the  idealism  of  Plato  and 
the  realism  of  Bacon  will  be  found  to  harmonize  as  expres- 
sions of  the  same  truths ;  the  generalizations  of  Humboldt 
and  the  poetical  intuitions  of  Goethe  may  be  looked  upon  as 
but  different  descriptions  of  the  same  facts.  Idealism  and  real- 
ism blend  and  are  extinguished  in  the  intimate  harmony  be- 
tween the  individual  and  Nature.  How  great,  then,  the  igno- 
rance which  fancies  that  poetry  demands  a  rude  age  for  its 
successful  development !  How  little,  again,  the  insight  which 
would  make  of  science  an  ugly  anatomy  only !  After  analysis 
comes  synthesis  ;  and,  beyond  the  practical  realization  of  sci- 
ence in  works  which  add  to  human  comfort,  there  remains 
the  £esthetical  embodiment  of  science.  Art  has  now  opening 
before  it  a  field  so  wide  that  imagination  cannot  dare  to  limit 
it,  for  science  must  plainly  attain  to  its  highest  development 
in  the  work  of  the  future  poet,  who  shall  give  to  its  reality  a 
beautiful  form.  Goethe  indicated  the  path,  but  he  who  shall 
accomplish  it  will  be  a  greater  than  Goethe.* 

*  Perhaps  the  tmest  estimate  of  science,  and  the  most  remarkable 
prophecy  with  regard  to  it,  is  to  be  foand  in  that  wonderful  tale  by  Goethe, 
"  Das  Mahrchen,"  a  tale  which  has  been  described,  by  one  who  has  done 
most  toward  making  Goethe  known  and  understood  in  England,  "as  the 
deepest  poem  of  its  sort  in  existence— as  the  only  true  prophecy  emitted 
for  who  knows  how  many  centuries." 


IV.-THE    LIMITS    OF    PHILOSOPHICAL    INQUIRY.* 

It  is  not  a  little  hard  upon  those  who  now  devote  them- 
Belves  to  the  patient  interrogation  of  Nature,  by  means  of 
observation  and  experiment,  that  thej  should  be  counted, 
whether  thej  will  or  not,  ministers  of  the  so-called  Positive 
Philosophy,  and  disciples  of  him  who  is  popularly  considered 
the  founder  of  that  philosophy.  No  matter  that  positive  in- 
vestigation within  the  limits  which  Oomte  prescribes  was 
pursued  earnestly  and  systematically  before  his  advent,  and 
with  an  exactness  of  method  of  which  he  had  no  conception; 
that  many  of  those  distinguished  since  his  time  for  their 
scientific  researches  and  generalizations  have  been  unac- 
quainted with  his  writings;  that  others  who  have  studied 
them  withhold  their  adherence  from  his  doctrines,  or  ener- 
getically disclaim  them.  These  things  are  not  considered; 
60  soon  as  a  scientific  inquirer  pushes  his  researches  into  the 
phenomena  of  life  and  mind,  he  is  held  to  be  a  Comtist.  Thus 
it  happens  that  there  is  a  growing  tendency  in  the  public 
mind  to  identify  modern  science  with  the  Positive  Philosophy. 
Considering  how  much  mischief  has  often  been  done  by  iden- 

*  Journal  of  Mental  Science,  No.  70.  The  Limits  of  Philosophical  Inquiry. 
Address  delivered  to  the  Members  of  the  Edinburgh  Philot^ophical  Institu- 
tion, November  6,  1868.  By  William,  Lord-Archbishop  of  York.  (Edmon* 
•ton  and  Douglas.) 


THE   LIMITS  OF  PHILOSOPHICAL  INQUIRY.      255 

tifying  the  character  of  an  epoch  of  thought  with  the  doc- 
trines of  some  eminent  man  who  has  lived  and  labored  and 
taken  the  lead  in  it,  and  tlms  making  his  defects  and  errors, 
hardened  into  formulas,  chains  to  fetter  the  free  course  of 
thought,  it  is  no  wonder  that  scientific  men  should  he  anxious 
to  disclaim  Comte  as  their  lawgiver,  and  to  protest  against 
such  a  king  being  set  up  to  reign  over  them.  Not  conscious 
of  any  personal  obligation  to  his  writings,  conscious  how 
much,  in  some  respects,  he  has  misrepresented  the  spirit  and 
pretensions  of  science,  they  repudiate  the  allegiance  which 
his  entliusiastic  disciples  would  force  upon  them,  and  which 
popular  opinion  is  fast  coming  to  think  a  natural  one.  They 
do  well  in  thus  making  a  timely  assertion  of  independence ; 
for,  if  it  be  not  done  soon,  it  will  soon  be  too  late  to  be  done 
well.  "When  we  look  back  at  the  history  of  systems  of  re- 
ligion and  philosophy,  it  is  almost  appalling  to  reflect  how 
entirely  one  man  has  appropriated  the  intellectual  develop- 
ment of  his  age,  and  how  despotically  he  has  constrained  the 
faith  of  generations  after  him  ;  the  mind  of  mankind  is  abso- 
lutely oppressed  by  the  weight  of  his  authority,  and  his  errors 
and  limitations  are  deemed  not  less  sacred  than  the  true  ideas 
of  which  he  has  been  the  organ :  for  a  time  he  is  made  an 
idol,  at  the  sound  of  whose  name  the  human  intellect  is  ex- 
pected to  fall  down  and  worship,  as  the  people,  nations,  and 
languages  were  expected,  at  what  time  they  heard  the  sound 
of  the  flute,  harp,  sackbut,  dulcimer,  and  all  kinds  of  music, 
to  fall  down  and  worship  the  golden  image  which  Nebuchad- 
nezzar the  king  had  set  up.  Happily  it  is  not  so  easy  to  take 
captive  the  understanding  now,  when  thought  is  busy  on  so 
many  subjects  in  such  various  domains  of  Nature,  and  when 
an  army  of  investigators  often  marches  where  formerly  a 
Bolitary  pioneer  painfully  sought  his  way,  as  it  was  when  the 
fields  of  intellectual  activity  were  few  and  limited,  and  the 
laborers  in  them  few  also. 

A  lecture  delivered  by  the  Archbishop  of  York  before  the 
Edinburgh  Philosophical  Institution,  which  has  been  pub- 


256  THE  LIMITS  OF 

lished  as  a  pamphlet,  contains  a  plain,  earnest,  and  on  the 
whole  temperate,  b\it  not  very  closely-reasoned,  criticism, 
fi'om  his  point  of  view,  of  the  tendency  of  modern  scientific 
research,  or  rather  of  Positivism,  and  a  somewhat  vagne  dec- 
laration of  the  limits  of  philosophical  inquiry.  He  perceives 
with  sorrow,  but  not  with  great  apprehension,  that  the  pros- 
pects of  philosophy  are  clouded  over  in  England,  France,  and 
Germany,  and  that  a  great  part  of  the  thinking  world  is  oc- 
cupied with  physical  researches.  But  he  does  not  therefore 
despair ;  believing  that  Positivism  indicates  only  a  temporary 
mood,  produced  by  prostration  and  lassitude  after  a  period 
of  unusual  controversy,  and  that  it  will  after  a  time  pass 
away,  and  be  followed  by  a  new  era  of  speculative  activity. 
It  may  be  presumed  that  men,  weary  of  their  fruitless  efi'orts 
to  scale  the  lofty  and  seemingly  barren  heights  of  true  philos- 
ophy, have  taken  the  easy  path  of  Positivism,  which  does  not 
lead  upward  at  all,  but  leads,  if  it  be  followed  far  enough,  to 
quagmires  of  unbelief.  The  facts  on  which  the  archbishop 
bases  his  opinion,  and  the  steps  of  reasoning  by  which  he  is 
able  thus  to  couple  a  period  of  speculative  activity  with  a 
period  of  religious  belief,  and  to  declare  a  system  of  positive 
scientific  research  to  be  linked  inseparably  with  a  system  of 
unbelief,  do  not  appear ;  they  are  sufficient  to  inspire  strong 
conviction  in  him,  but  they  apparently  lie  too  far  down  in 
the  depths  of  his  moral  consciousness  to  be  capable  of  being 
anfolded,  in  lucid  sequence,  to  the  apprehension  of  others. 

To  the  critical  reader  of  the  lecture  it  must  at  once  occur 
that  a  want  of  discrimination  between  things  that  are  wide- 
ly different  is  the  cause  of  no  little  looseness,  if  not  reck- 
lessness, of  assertion.  In  the  first  place,  the  archbishop 
identifies  off'-hand  the  course  and  aim  of  modern  scientific 
progress  with  the  Positivism  of  Comte  and  his  followers. 
This  is  very  much  as  if  any  one  should  insist  on  attributing 
the  same  character  and  the  same  aim  to  persons  who  were 
travelling  for  a  considerable  distance  along  the  same  road. 
As  it  was  Comte's  great  aim  to  organize  a  harmonious  co- 


PHILOSOPHICAL  INQUIRY.  257 

ordination  and  subordination  of  the  sciences,  he  assimilated 
and  used  for  his  purpose  the  scientific  knowledge  which  was 
available  to  him,  and  systematized  the  observed  method  of 
scientific  progress  from  the  more  simple  and  general  to  the 
more  special  and  complex  studies ;  but  it  assuredly  is  most 
UL warrantable  to  declare  those  who  are  engaged  in  physical 
research  to  be  committed  to  his  conclusions  and  pretensions, 
and  there  can  be  no  question  that  a  philosophy  of  science, 
when  it  is  written,  will  difi'er  widely  from  the  so-called  Posi- 
tive Philosophy. 

In  the  second  place,  the  archbishop  unwittingly  perpe- 
trates a  second  and  similarly  reckless  injustice  in  assuming, 
as  he  does,  that  modern  science  must  needs  accept  what  he 
describes  as  the  sensational  philosophy.  "  Thus  the  business 
of  science,"  he  says,  "is  to  gather  up  the  facts  as  they  ap- 
pear, without  addition  or  perversion  of  the  senses.  As  the 
senses  are  our  only  means  of  knowledge,  and  we  can  only 
know  things  as  they  present  themselves  to  the  eye  and  ear, 
it  follows  that  our  knowledge  is  not  absolute  knowledge  of 
the  things,  but  a  knowledge  of  their  relations  to  us,  that  is, 
of  our  sensations."  Passing  by  the  question,  which  might 
well  be  raised,  whether  any  one,  even  the  founder  of  th« 
sensational  philosophy,  ever  thus  crudely  asserted  the  senses 
to  be  our  only  means  of  knowledge,  and  our  knowledge  to 
be  only  a  knowledge  of  our  sensations ;  passing  by,  too,  any 
discussion  concerning  what  the  archbishop  means,  if  he 
means  any  thing,  by  an  absolute  knowledge  of  things  as  dis- 
tinct from  a  knowledge  of  things  in  their  relations  to  us,  and 
all  speculations  concerning  the  faculties  which  finite  and  rel- 
ative beings  who  are  not  archbishops  have  of  apprehending 
and  comprehending  the  absolute  ;  it  is  necessary  to  protest 
against  the  assumption  that  science  is  committed  to  such  a 
representation  of  the  sensational  philosophy,  or  to  the  sensa- 
tional philosophy  at  all.  Those  modern  inquirers  who  hav© 
pushed  farthest  their  physical  researches  into  mental  func- 
tions and  bodily  organs  have  notoriously  been  at  great  pains 


258  THE  LIMITS  OP 

to  discriminate  between  the  nervous  centres  i^lL-.h.  minister 
to  sensation  and  tiiose  which  minister  to  reflection,  and  have 
done  much  to  elucidate  the  physical  and  functional  connec- 
tions between  them.  They  have  never  been  guilty  of  calling 
all  knowledge  a  knowledge  only  of  sensations,  for  they  rec- 
ognize how^  vague,  barren,  and  unmeaning,  are  the  terms  of 
the  old  language  of  philosophical  strife,  when  an  attempt  is 
made  to  apply  them  with  precision  to  the  phenomena  re- 
vealed by  exact  scientific  observation.  The  sensorial  centres 
with  which  the  senses  are  in  direct  connection  are  quite  dis- 
tinct from,  and  subordinate  to,  the  nervous  centres  of  idea- 
tion or  reflection — the  supreme  hemispherical  ganglia.  It  is 
in  these,  which  are  far  more  developed  in  man  than  in  any 
other  animal,  and  more  developed  in  the  higher  than  in  the 
lower  races  of  men,  that  sensation  is  transformed  into  knowl- 
edge, and  that  reflective  consciousness  has  its  seat.  The 
knowledge  so  acquired  is  not  drained  from  the  outer  world 
through  the  senses,  nor  is  it  a  physical  mixture  or  a  chemical 
compound  of  so  much  received  from  without  and  so  much 
added  by  the  mind  or  brain ;  it  is  an  organized  result  of  a 
most  complex  and  delicate  process  of  development  in  the 
highest  kind  of  organic  element  in  Nature — a  mental  organi- 
zation accomplished,  like  any  other  organization,  in  accord- 
ance with  definite  laws.  We  have  to  do  with  laws  of  life^ 
and  the  language  used  in  the  interpretation  of  phenomena 
must  accord  with  ideas  derived  from  the  study  of  organiza- 
tion; for  assuredly  it  cannot  fail  to  produce  confusion  if  it  be 
the  expression  only  of  ideas  derived  from  the  laws  of  phys- 
ical phenomena,  so  far  as  these  are  at  present  known  to  us. 
Now,  the  organization  of  a  definite  sensation  is  a  very  difier- 
ent  matter  from,  has  no  resemblance  in  Nature  to,  the  phys- 
ical impression  made  upon  the  organ  of  sense,  and  the  or- 
ganization of  an  idea  is  a  higher  and  more  complex  vital 
process  than  the  organization  of  a  sensation ;  to  call  knowl- 
edge, therefore,  a  knowledge  only  of  sensation  is  either  a 
meaningless  proposition,  or,  in  so  far  as  it  has  meaning,  it  is 


PHILOSOPHICAL   INQUIRY.  259 

falser  than  it  would  be  to  affirm  the  properties  of  a  chemical 
compound  to  be  those  of  its  constituents.  "Were  they  who 
pursue  the  scientific  study  of  mind  not  more  thoughtful  than 
the  Archbishop  of  York  gives  them  credit  for  being,  they 
would  have  no  reason  to  give  why  animals  with  as  many 
senses  as  man  has,  and  with  some  of  them  more  acute  than 
his,  have  not  long  since  attained,  like  him,  to  an  understand- 
ing of  the  benefits  of  establishing  archbishoprics. 

It  must  be  understood  that  by  the  assertion  of  the  organic 
basis  of  mental  function  is  not  meant  that  the  mind  imposes 
the  laws  of  its  own  organization ;  on  the  contrary,  it  obeys 
them,  knowing  not  whence  they  come  nor  whither  they 
tend.  Innate  ideas,  fundamental  ideas,  categories  of  the  un-r 
derstanding,  and  like  metaphysical  expressions,  are  obscure 
intimations  of  the  laws  of  action  of  the  internal  organizing 
power  under  the  conditions  of  its  existence  and  exercise ; 
and  it  is  easy  to  perceive  that  a  new  and  higher  sense  con- 
ferred on  man,  altering  entirely  these  conditions,  would  at 
once  render  necessary  a  new  order  of  fundamental  ideas  or 
categories  of  the  understanding.  That  all  our  knowledge  is 
relative  cannot  be  denied,  unless  it  be  maintained  that  in  that 
wonderful  organizing  power  which  cometh  from  afar  there 
lies  hidden  that  which  may  be  intuitively  revealed  to  con- 
sciousness as  absolute  knowledge — that  the  nature  of  the 
mysterious  power  which  inspires  and  impels  evolution  may, 
by  a  flash  of  intuitive  consciousness,  be  made  manifest  to 
the  mind  in  the  process  of  its  own  development.  If  Nature 
be  attaining  to  a  complete  self-consciousness  in  man,  far 
away  from  such  an  end  as  it  seems  to  be,  it  is  conceivable 
that  this  might  happen ;  and  if  such  a  miraculous  inspiration 
were  thus  to  reveal  the  unknown,  it  would  be  a  revelation  of 
the  one  primeval  Power.  Clearly,  however,  as  positive  sci- 
entific research  is  powerless  before  a  vast  mystery — the 
whence,  what,  and  whither,  of  the  mighty  power  which 
gives  the  impulse  to  evolution — it  is  not  justified  in  making 
any  proposition  regarding  it.     This,  however,  it  may  rightly 


260  THE  LIMITS  OP 

do ;  while  keeping  its  inquiries  within  the  limits  of  the 
knowable,  it  may  examine  critically,  and  use  all  available 
means  of  testing,  the  claims  and  credentials  of  any  professed 
revelation  of  the  mystery.  And  it  is  in  the  pursuit  of  such 
inquiries  that  it  would  have  been  satisfactory  to  have  had 
from  the  archbishop,  as  a  high-priest  of  the  mystery,  some 
gleam  of  information  as  to  the  proper  limits  which  he  be- 
lieves ought  to  be  observed.  At  what  point  is  the  hitherto 
and  no  farther  to  which  inquiry  may  advance  in  that  direc- 
tion ?  "Where  do  we  reach  the  holy  ground  when  it  becomes 
necessary  to  put  the  scientific  shoes  from  off  our  feet  ?  There 
must  assuredly  be 'some  right  and  duty  of  examination  into 
the  evidence  of  revelations  claiming  to  be  Divine;  for,  if  it 
were  not  so,  how  could  the  intelligent  Mussulman  ever  be, 
if  he  ever  is,  persuaded  to  abandon  the  one  God  of  his  faith, 
and  to  accept  what  must  seem  to  him  the  polytheism  of  the 
Christian  Trinity  ? 

Another  error,  or  rather  set  of  errors,  into  which  the 
archbishop  plunges,  is  that  he  assumes  positive  science  to  be 
materialistic,  and  materialism  to  involve  the  negation  of  God, 
of  immortality,  and  of  free  will.  This  imputation  of  mate- 
rialism, which  ought  never  to  have  been  so  lightly  made,  it  is 
quite  certain  that  the  majority  of  scientific  men  would  ear- 
nestly disclaim.  Moreover,  the  materialist,  as  such,  is  not 
under  any  logical  constraint  whatever  to  deny  either  the  ex- 
istence of  a  God,  or  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  or  free  will. 
One  is  almost  tempted  to  say  that  in  two  things  the  arch- 
bishop distances  competition :  first,  in  the  facility  with  which 
he  loses  or  dispenses  with  the  links  of  his  own  chain  of  rea- 
soning; and,  secondly,  in  his  evident  inability  to  perceive, 
when  looking  sincerely  with  all  his  might,  real  and  essential 
distinctions  which  are  at  all  subtile,  which  are  not  broadly, 
and  almost  coarsely,  marked.  If  the  edge  of  a  distinction  be 
fine,  if  it  be  not  as  blunt  as  a  weaver's  beam,  it  fails  seem- 
ingly to  attract  his  attention,  "Whosoever  believes  sincerely 
in  the  doctrine  of  the  resurrection  of  the  body,  as  taught  by 


PHILOSOPHICAL  INQUIRY.  20 1 

tlie  Apostle  Paul,  which  all  Christians  profess  to  do,  must 
Burely  have  some  difficulty  in  conceiving  the  immortality  of 
the  soul  apart  from  that  of  the  hody;  for,  if  the  apostle's 
preaching  and  the  Christian's  faith  be  not  vain,  and  the  body 
do  rise  again,  then  it  may  be  presumed  that  the  soul  and  it 
will  share  a  common  immortality,  as  they  have  shared  a  com- 
mon mortality.  So  far,  then,  from  materialism  being  the  ne- 
gation of  immortality,  the  greatest  of  the  apostles,  the  great 
Apostle  of  the  Gentiles,  earnestly  preached  materialism  as  es- 
sential to  the  life  which  is  to  come.  There  is  as  little  or  less 
justification  for  saying  that  materialism  involves  of  necessity 
the  denial  of  free  will.  The  facts  on  which  the  doctrine  of 
free  will  is  based  are  the  same  facts  of  observation,  whether 
spiritualism  or  materialism  be  the  accepted  faith,  and  the 
question  of  their  interpretation  is  not  essentially  connected 
with  the  one  or  the  other  faith  ;  the  spiritualist  may  consist- 
ently deny,  and  the  materialist  consistently  advocate,  free 
will.  In  like  manner,  the  belief  in  the  existence  of  God  is 
nowise  inconsistent  with  the  most  extreme  materialism,  for 
the  belief  is  quite  independent  of  the  facts  and  reasons  on 
which  that  faith  is  founded.  The  spiritualist  may  deny  God 
the  power  to  make  matter  think,  but  the  materialist  need  not 
deny  the  existence  of  God  because  he  holds  that  matter  may 
be  capable  of  thought.  Multitudes  may  logically  believe  that 
mind  is  inseparable  from  body  in  life  or  death — that  it  is 
born  with  it,  grows,  ripens,  decays,  and  dies  with  it,  without 
disbelieving  in  a  great  and  intelligent  Power  who  has  called 
man  into  being,  and  ordained  the  greater  light  to  rule  the  day 
und  the  lesser  light  to  rule  the  night. 

What  an  unnecessary  horror  hangs  over  the  word  materi- 
alism !  It  has  an  ugly  sound  and  an  indefinite  meaning,  and 
is  well  suited,  therefore,  to  be  set  up  as  a  sort  of  moral 
scarecrow  ;  but,  if  it  be  closely  examined,  it  will  be  found  to 
have  the  semblance  of  something  terrible,  and  to  be  empty 
of  any  real  harm.  In  the  assertion  that  mind  is  altogether  a 
function  of  matter,  there  is  no  more  actual  irreverence  than  in 
12 


262  THE  LIMITS  OF 

asserting  that  matter  is  the  realization  of  mind ;  the  one  and 
the  other  proposition  being  equally  meaningless  so  far  as  they 
postulate  a  knowledge  of  any  thing  more  than  x>henomena. 
"Whether  extension  be  visible  thought,  or  thought  invisible  ex- 
tension, is  a  question  of  a  choice  of  words,  and  not  of  a  choice 
of  conceptions.  To  those  who  cannot  conceive  that  any  or- 
ganization of  matter,  however  complex,  should  be  capable  of 
such  exalted  functions  as  those  which  are  called  mental,  is  it 
really  more  conceivable  that  any  organization  of  matter  can 
be  the  mechanical  instrument  of  the  complex  manifestations 
of  an  immaterial  mind  ?  Is  it  not  as  easy  for  an  omnipotent 
power  to  endow  matter  with  mental  functions  as  it  is  to 
create  an  immaterial  entity  capable  of  accomplishing  them 
through  matter?  Is  the  Creator's  arm  shortened,  so  that  He 
cannot  endow  matter  with  sensation  and  ideation?  It  is 
strangely  overlooked  by  many  who  write  on  this  matter,  that 
the  brain  is  not  a  dead  instrument,  but  a  living  organ,  with 
functions  of  a  higher  kind  than  those  of  any  other  bodily 
organ,  insomuch  as  its  organic  nature  and  structure  far  sur- 
pass those  of  any  other  organ.  What,  then,  are  those  func- 
tions if  they  are  not  mental  ?  I^o  one  thinks  it  necessary  to 
assume  an  immaterial  liver  behind  the  hepatic  structure,  in  or- 
der to  account  for  its  functions.  But  so  far  as  the  nature  of 
nerve  and  the  complex  structure  of  the  cerebral  convolutions 
exceed  in  dignity  the  hepatic  elements  and  structure,  so  far 
must  the  material  functions  of  the  brain  exceed  those  of  the 
liver.  Men  are  not  sufficiently  careful  to  ponder  the  wonder- 
ful operations  of  which  matter  is  capable,  or  to  reflect  on  the 
miracles  efiected  by  it  which  are  continually  before  their  eyes. 
Are  the  properties  of  a  chemical  compound  less  mysterious 
essentially  because  of  the  familiarity  with  which  we  handle 
them  ?  Consider  the  seed  dropped  into  the  ground :  it  swells 
with  germinating  energy,  bursts  its  integuments,  sends  up- 
ff^ard  a  delicate  shoot,  which  grows  into  a  stem,  putting  forth 
in  due  season  its  leaves  and  flowers,  until  finally  a  beautiful 
structure  is  formed,  such  as  Solomon  in  all  his  glory  could  not 


PHILOSOPHICAL  INQUIRY.  263 

equal,  and  all  the  art  of  mankind  cannot  imitate.  And  jet 
all  these  processes  are  operations  of  matter;  for  it  is  not 
thought  necessary  to  assume  an  immaterial  or  spiritual  plant 
which  effects  its  purposes  through  the  agency  of  the  material 
structure  which  we  observe.  Surely  there  are  here  exhibited 
properties  of  matter  wonderful  enough  to  satisfy  any  one  of 
the  powers  that  may  be  inherent  in  it.  Are  we,  then,  to  be- 
lieve that  the  highest  and  most  complex  development  of  or- 
ganic structure  is  not  capable  of  even  more  wonderful  opera- 
tions? Would  you  have  the  human  body,  which  is  a  micro- 
cosm containing  all  the  forms  and  powers  of  matter  organized 
in  the  most  delicate  and  complex  manner,  to  possess  lower 
powers  than  those  forms  of  matter  exhibit  separately  in  Na- 
ture ?  Trace  the  gradual  development  of  the  nervotis  system 
through  the  animal  series,  from  its  first  germ  to  its  most  com- 
plex evolution,  and  let  it  be  declared  at  what  point  it  sudden- 
ly loses  all  its  inherent  properties  as  living  structure,  and  be- 
comes the  mere  mechanical  instrument  of  a  spiritual  entity. 
In  what  animal,  or  in  what  class  of  animals,  does  the  imma- 
terial principle  abruptly  intervene  and  supersede  the  agency 
of  matter,  becoming  the  entirely  distinct  cause  of  a  similar, 
though  more  exalted,  order  of  mental  phenomena?  To  ap- 
peal to  the  consciousness  of  every  man  for  the  proof  of  a 
power  within  him,  totally  distinct  from  any  function  of  the 
body,  is  not  admissible  as  an  argument,  while  it  is  admitted 
that  consciousness  can  make  no  observation  of  the  bodily  or- 
gan and  its  functions,  and  until  therefore  it  be  proved  that 
matter,  even  when  in  the  form  of  the  most  complex  organi- 
zation, is  incapable  of  certain  mental  functions.  Why  may  it 
not,  indeed,  be  capable  of  consciousness,  seeing  that,  whether 
it  be  or  not,  the  mystery  is  equally  incomprehensible  to  us, 
and  must  be  reckoned  equally  simple  and  easy  to  the  Power 
which  created  matter  and  its  properties  ?  When,  again,  we 
are  told  that  every  part  of  the  body  is  in  a  constant  state  of 
change,  that  within  a  certain  period  every  particle  of  it  is  re- 
newed, and  yet  that  amid  these  changes  a  man  feels  that  he 


264  THE  LIMITS  OF 

remains  essentially  the  same,  vre  perceive  nothing  inconsist- 
ent in  the  idea  of  the  action  of  a  material  organ;  for  it  is  not 
absurd  to  suppose  that  in  the  brain  the  new  series  of  particles 
take  the  pattern  of  those  which  thej  replace,  as  they  do  in 
other  organs  and  tissues  which  are  continually  changing  their 
substance  yet  preserve  their  identity.  Even  the  scar  of  a 
wound  on  the  finger  is  not  often  effaced,  but  grows  as  the 
body  grows :  "why,  then,  assume  the  necessity  of  an  imma- 
terial principle  to  prevent  the  impression  of  an  idea  from  be- 
ing lost  ? 

The  truth  is,  that  men  have  disputed  vaguely  and  violently 
about  matter  and  motion,  and  about  the  impossibility  of  mat- 
ter affecting  an  immaterial  mind,  never  having  been  at  the 
pains  to  reflect  carefully  upon  the  different  kinds  of  matter 
and  the  corresponding  differences  of  kind  in  its  motions.  All 
sorts  of  matter,  diverse  as  they  are,  w^ere  vaguely  matter — 
there  was  no  discrimination  made;  and  all  the  manifold  and 
special  properties  of  matter  were  comprised  under  the  gen- 
eral term  motion.  This  was  not,  nor  could  it  lead  to,  good; 
for  matter  really  rises  in  dignity  from  physical  matter  in 
which  physical  properties  exist  to  chemical  matter  and  chem- 
ical forces,  and  from  chemical  matter  to  living  matter  and  its 
modes  of  force  ;  and  then  in  the  scale  of  life  a  continuing  as- 
cent leads  from  the  lowest  kind  of  living  matter  with  its  force 
or  energy,  through  different  kinds  of  physiological  elements 
with  their  special  energies  or  functions,  to  the  highest  kind 
of  living  matter  with  its  force — viz.,  nerve-matter  and  nerve- 
force  ;  and,  lastly,  through  the  different  kinds  of  nerve-cells 
and  their  energies  to  the  most  exalted  agents  of  mental  func- 
tion. ObAiously,  then,  simple  ideas  derived  from  observation 
of  mechanical  phenomena  cannot  fitly  be  applied  to  the  ex- 
planation of  the  functions  of  that  most  complex  combination 
of  elements  and  energies,  physical  and  chemical,  in  a  small 
space,  which  we  have  in  living  structure ;  to  speak  of  me- 
chanical vibration  in  nerves  and  nerve-centres  is  to  convey 
false  ideas  of  their  extremely  delicate  and  complex  energies, 


PHILOSOPHICAL  INQUIRY.  265 

and  thus  seriously  to  hinder  the  formation  of  more  ji;st  con- 
ceptions. 

In  like  manner,  much  barren  discussion  has  been  owing 
to  the  undiscriminating  inclusion  of  all  kinds  of  mental  mani- 
festations under  the  vague  and  general  term  mind;  for  there 
are  most  important  difterences  in  the  nature  and  dignity  of 
so-called  mental  phenomena,  when  they  are  properly  observed 
and  analyzed.  Those  who  have  not  been  at  the  pains  to 
follow  the  order  of  development  of  mental  phenomena  and 
to  make  themselves  acquainted  with  the  different  kinds  of 
functions  that  concur  to  form  what  we  call  mental  action, 
and  who  have  not  studied  the  differences  of  matter,  are  doing 
no  better  than  beating  the  air  when  they  disclaim  against 
materialism.  By  rightly  submitting  the  understanding  to 
facts,  it  is  made  evident  that,  on  the  one  hand,  matter  rises 
in  dignity  and  function  until  its  energies  merge  insensibly 
Into  functions  which  are  described  as  mental,  and,  on  the 
other  hand,  that  there  are  gradations  of  mental  function,  the 
lowest  of  which  confessedly  do  not  transcend  the  functions 
of  matter.  The  burden  of  proving  that  the  Bens  ex  macJdnd 
of  a  spiritual  entity  intervenes  somewhere,  and  where  it 
intervenes,  clearly  lies  upon  those  who  make  the  assertion  or 
who  need  the  hypothesis.  They  are  not  justified  in  arbitra- 
rily fabricating  an  hypothesis  entirely  inconsistent  with  ex- 
perience of  the  orderly  development  of  Nature,  which  even 
postulates  a  domain  of  Nature  that  human  senses  cannot  take 
any  cognizance  of,  and  in  then  calling  upon  those  who  reject 
their  assumption  to  disprove  it.  These  have  done  enough  if 
they  show  that  there  are  no  grounds  for  and  no  need  of  the 
hypothesis. 

Here  we  might  properly  take  leave  of  the  archbishop's 
address,  were  it  not  that  the  looseness  of  his  statements  and 
the  way  in  which  his  understanding  is  governed  by  the  old 
phrases  of  philosophical  disputes  tempt  further  criticism,  and 
make  it  a  duty  to  expose  aspects  of  the  subject  of  which  ha 
does  not  evince  the  least  apprehension.     He  would,  we  ima- 


266  THE  LIMITS  OF 

gine,  be  bard  put  to  it  to  support  tbe  beavy  indictmont  con- 
tained in  tbe  following  sentence  wbicb  be  flings  off  as  be 
goes  beedlesslj  forward:  "A  system  wbicb  pretends  to  dis- 
pense witb  tbe  ideas  of  God,  of  immortality,  of  free  agency, 
of  causation,  and  of  design,  would  seem  to  offer  few  attrac- 
tions." The  question  of  the  value  of  any  system  of  philosophy 
is  not,  it  may  be  observed  incidentally,  whether  it  is  unattrac- 
tive because  it  dispenses  witb  received  notions,  still  less 
because  its  adversaries  imagine  that  it  must  dispense  with 
them;  but  it  is  whether  it  possesses  that  degree  of  funda- 
mental truth  wbicb  will  avail  to  enlarge  tbe  knowledge  and 
to  attract  ultimately  the  belief  of  mankind.  History  does  not 
record  that  the  doctrines  of  Christianity  were  found  attractive 
by  the  philosophers  of  Greece  or  Rome  when  they  were  first 
preached  there ;  does,  indeed,  record  that  Paul  preaching  on 
Mars'  Hill  at  Athens,  the  city  of  intellectual  enlightenment, 
and  declaring  to  tbe  inhabitants  the  unknown  God  whom 
they  ignorantly  worshipped,  made  no  impression,  but  found 
it  prudent  to  depart  thence  to  Corinth,  nowise  renowned  at 
that  time  as  a  virtuous  city,  renowned,  indeed,  in  far  other 
wise.  "We  have  not,  however,  quoted  the  foregoing  sentence 
in  order  to  repudiate  popular  attractiveness  as  a  criterion  of 
truth,  but  to  take  occasion  to  declare  tbe  wide  difference  be- 
tween tbe  modest  spirit  of  scientific  inquiry  and  the  confident 
dogmatism  of  the  so-called  Positive  Philosophy.  Science, 
recognizing  the  measure  of  what  it  can  impart  to  be  bounded 
by  the  existing  limits  of  scientific  inquiry,  makes  no  proposi- 
tion whatever  concerning  that  wbicb  lies  beyond  these  lim- 
its; equally  careful,  on  tbe  one  band,  to  avoid  a  barren 
enunciation  in  words  of  what  it  cannot  apprehend  in 
thought,  and,  on  the  other  band,  to  refrain  from  a  blind 
denial  of  possibilities  transcending  its  means  of  research.  A 
calm  acquiescence  in  ignorance  until  light  comes  is  its  atti- 
tude. It  must  be  borne  clearly  in  mind,  however,  that  tliis 
scrupulous  care  to  abstain  from  presumptuous  assertions  does 
not  warrant  the  imposition  of  any  arbitrary  barrier  to  the 


PHILOSOPHICAL  INQUIRY.  267 

reach  of  its  powers,  but  is  quite  consistent  witli  the  convic- 
tion of  the  possibility  of  an  invasion  and  subjugation  of  the 
unknown  to  a  practically  unlimited  extent,  and  with  the  most 
strenuous  efforts  to  lessen  its  domain. 

The  wonder  is — and  the  more  it  is  considered  the  greater 
it  seems — that  human  intelligence  should  ever  have  grown  to 
tlie  height  either  of  affirming  or  of  denying  the  existence  of  a 
God.  Certainly  the  denial  implies,  even  if  the  affirmation 
does  not  also,  the  assumption  of  the  attributes  of  a  God  by 
him  who  makes  it.  Let  imagination  travel  unrestrained 
through  the  immeasurable  heavens,  past  the  myriads  of  orbs 
which,  revolving  in  their  appointed  paths,  constitute  our 
solar  system,  through  distances  which  words  cannot  express 
nor  mind  conceive  definitely,  to  other  suns  and  other  planet- 
ary systems ;  beyond  these  glimmer  in  the  vast  distance  the 
lights  of  more  solar  systems,  whose  rays,  extinguished  in  the 
void,  never  reach  our  planet :  still  they  are  not  the  end,  for 
as  thought  in  its  flight  leaves  them  behind,  and  they  vanish 
in  remote  space,  other  suns  appear,  until,  as  the  imagination 
strives  to  realize  their  immensity,  the  heavens  seem  almost 
an  infinite  void,  so  small  a  space  do  the  scattered  clusters  of 
planets  fill.  Then  let  sober  reflection  take  up  the  tale,  and, 
remembering  how  small  a  part  of  the  heavenly  hosts  our 
solar  system  is,  and  how  small  a  part  of  our  solar  system 
the  earth  is,  consider  how  entirely  dependent  man,  and 
beast,  and  plant,  and  every  living  thing  are  upon  the  heat 
which  this  our  planet  receives  from  the  sun;  how  vege- 
tation flourishes  through  its  inspiring  influence,  and  the 
vegetation  of  the  past  in  long-buried  forests  gives  up  again 
the  heat  which  ages  ago  it  received  from  the  sun ;  how  animal 
life  is  sustained  by  the  life  of  the  vegetable  kingdom,  and  by 
the  heat  whicb  is  received  directly  from  the  sun ;  and  how 
man,  as  the  crown  of  living  things,  and  his  highest  mental 
energy,  as  the  crown  of  his  development,  depend  on  all  that 
has  gone  before  him  in  the  evolution  of  Kature — considering 
all  these  things,  docs  not  living  Nature  appear  but  a  small 


268  THE  LIMITS  OF 

and  incidental  bj-play  of  the  sun's  energies  ?  Seems  it  not 
an  unspeakable  presumption  to  affirm  that  man  is  the  main 
end  and  purpose  of  creation  ?  Is  it  not  appalling  to  think 
that  he  should  dare  to  speak  of  what  so  far  surpasses  the 
reach  of  his  feeble  senses,  and  of  the  power  which  ordains 
and  governs  the  order  of  events — impiously  to  deny  the 
existence  of  a  God,  or  not  less  impiously  to  create  one  in  his 
image?  The  portion  of  the  universe  with  which  man  is 
brought  into  relation  by  his  existing  sentiency  is  but  a  frag- 
ment, and  to  measure  the  possibilities  of  the  infinite  unknown 
by  the  standard  of  what  he  knows  is  very  much  as  if  the 
oyster  should  judge  allXature  by  the  experience  gained  with- 
in its  shell — should  deny  the  existence  on  earth  of  a  human 
being,  because  its  intelligence  cannot  conceive  his  nature  or 
recognize  his  works.  Encompassing  us  and  transcending  our 
ken  is  a  universe  of  energies ;  how  can  man,  then,  the  "  feeble 
atom  of  an  hour,"  presume  to  affirm  whose  glory  the  heavens 
declare,  whose  handiwork  the  firmament  showeth?  Certain- 
ly true  science  does  not  so  dogmatize. 

Bacon,  in  a  well-known  and  often-quoted  passage,  has  re- 
marked, that  "a  little  philosophy  inclineth  men's  minds  to 
Atheism,  but  depth  in  philosophy  bringeth  men's  minds  about 
to  religion ;  for  while  the  mind  of  man  looketh  upon  second 
causes  scattered,  it  may  sometimes  rest  in  them,  and  go  no 
further  ;  but  when  it  beholdeth  the  chain  of  them,  confeder- 
ate and  linked  together,  it  must  needs  fly  to  Providence  and 
Deity."  It  is  not  easy  to  perceive,  indeed,  how  modern  sci- 
ence, which  makes  its  inductions  concerning  natural  forces 
from  observation  of  their  manifestations,  and  arrives  at 
generalizations  of  different  forces,  can,  after  observation  of 
Is'ature,  avoid  the  generalization  of  an  intelligent  mental 
force,  linked  in  harmonious  association  and  essential  relations 
with  other  forces,  but  leading  and  constraining  them  to  higher 
aims  of  evolution.  To  speak  of  such  evolution  as  the  course 
of  Ils'ature  is  to  endow  an  undefined  agency  with  the  proper- 
ties which  are  commonly  assigned  to  a  god,  whether  it  be 


PHILOSOPHICAL  IXQUIR?.  269 

called  God  or  not.  The  nature,  aim,  and  power  of  this  su- 
preme intelligent  force,  working  so  far  as  we  know  from 
everlasting  to  everlasting,  it  is  plainly  impossible  that  man,  a 
finite  and  transient  part  of  Nature,  should  comprehend.  To 
suppose  him  capable  of  doing  so,  would  be  to  suppose  him 
endowed  with  the  very  attributes  which,  having  only  in  part 
himself,  he  ascribes  in  the  whole  to  Deity. 

Whether  the  low  savage  has  or  has  not  the  idea  of  a  God 
is  a  question  which  seems  hardly  to  deserve  the  amount  of 
attention  which  it  has  received.  It  is  certain  that  he  feels 
himself  surrounded  and  overruled  by  forces  the  natures  and 
laws  of  which  he  is  quite  ignorant  of,  and  that  he  is  apt  to 
interpret  them,  more  or  less  clearly,  as  the  work  of  some 
being  of  like  passions  with  himself,  but  vastly  more  powerful, 
whom  it  is  his  interest  to  propitiate.  Indeed,  it  would  ap- 
pear, so  far  as  the  information  of  travellers  enables  us  to 
judge,  that  the  idea  entertained  of  God  by  the  savage  who 
has  any  such  idea  is  nearly  allied  to  that  which  civilized  peo- 
ple have  or  have  had  of  a  devil ;  for  it  is  the  vague  dread  of 
a  being  whose  delight  is  in  bringing  evil  upon  him  rather 
than  that  of  a  being  who  watches  over  and  protects  him. 
Being  ignorant  altogether  of  the  order  of  Nature,  and  of  the 
fixed  laws  under  which  calamities  and  blessings  alike  come, 
he  frames  a  dim,  vague,  and  terrible  embodiment  of  the  causes 
of  those  effects  which  touch  him  most  painfully.  Will  it  be 
believed,  then,  that  the  Archbishop  of  York  actually  appeals 
to  the  instinct  of  the  savage  to  rebuke  the  alleged  atheism 
of  science  ?  Let  it  be  granted,  however,  that  the  alleged  in- 
stinct of  the  savage  points  to  a  God  and  not  to  a  devil  ruling 
the  world,  it  must  in  all  fairness  be  confessed  that  it  is  a  dim, 
undefined,  fearful  idea — if  that  can  be  called  an  idea  which 
form  has  none — having  no  relationship  to  the  conception  of 
a  God  which  is  cherished  among  civilized  people.  In  like 
manner  as  the  idea  of  a  devil  has  undergone  a  remarkable 
development  with  the  growth  of  intelligence  from  age  to  age, 
until  in  some  quarters  there  is  evinced  a  disposition  to  im- 


270  THE  LIMITS  OF 

prove  him  out  of  being,  so  the  conception  of  a  God  has  under- 
gone an  important  development  through  the  ages,  in  corre- 
spondence with  the  development  of  the  hnman  mind.  The 
conceptions  of  God  aflarmed  by  different  revelations  notably 
reflect,  and  are  an  index  of,  the  intellectual  and  moral  char- 
acter of  the  people  to  whom  each  revelation  has  been  made, 
and  the  God  of  the  same  religion  does  unquestionably  advance 
with  the  mental  evolution  of  the  people  professing  it,  being 
differently  conceived  of  at  different  stages  of  culture.  Art, 
in  its  early  infancy,  when  it  is,  so  to  speak,  learning  its  steps, 
endeavors  to  copy  ITature,  and,  copying  it  badly,  exaggerates 
and  caricatures  it,  whence  the  savage's  crude  notion  of  a  God ; 
but  the  aim  and  work  of  the  highest  art  is  to  produce  by 
idealization  the  illusion  of  a  higher  reality,  whence  a  more 
exalted  and  spiritual  conception  of  Deity. 

Notwithstanding  the  archbishop's  charge  of  atheism 
against  science,  there  is  hardly  one,  if  indeed  there  be  even 
one,  eminent  scientific  inquirer  who  has  denied  the  existence 
of  God,  while  there  is  notably  more  than  one  who  has 
evinced  a  childlike  simplicity  of  faith.  The  utmost  claim  of 
scientific  skepticism  is  the  right  to  examine  the  evidence  of  a 
revelation  professing  to  be  Divine,  in  the  same  searching  way 
as  it  would  examine  any  other  evidence — to  endeavor  to  trace 
the  origin  and  development,  and  to  weigh  the  value,  of  re- 
ligious conceptions  as  of  other  conceptions.  It  violates  the 
fundamental  habit  of  the  scientific  mind,  the  very  principle 
of  its  nature,  to  demand  of  it  the  unquestioning  acceptance 
of  any  form  of  faith  which  tradition  may  hand  down  as 
divinely  revealed.  When  the  followers  of  a  religion  appeal, 
as  the  followers  of  every  religion  do,  in  proof  of  it,  to  the 
testimony  of  miraculous  events  contrary  to  the  experience 
of  the  present  order  of  Nature,  there  is  a  scientific  fact  not 
contrary  to  experience  of  the  order  of  Nature  which  they 
overlook,  but  which  it  is  incumbent  to  bear  in  mind,  viz.: 
That  eager  and  enthusiastic  disciples  sometimes  have  visions 
and  dream  dreams,  and  that  they  are  apt  innocently  to  ima- 


PHILOSOPHICAL   INQUIRY.  271 

gint>  or  pnrposely  to  invent  extraordinary  or  supernatural 
events  worthy  the  imagined  importance  of  the  subject,  and 
answering  the  burning  zeal  of  their  faith.  The  calm  observer 
and  sincere  interpreter  of  Nature  cannot  set  capricious  or 
arbitrary  bounds  to  his  inquiries  at  any  point  where  another 
may  assert  that  he  ought  to  do  so ;  he  cannot  choose  but 
claim  and  maintain  the  right  to  search  and  try  what  any 
man,  Jew  or  Gentile,  Mussulman  or  Bramin,  has  declared 
sacred,  and  to  see  if  it  be  true.  And,  if  it  be  not  true  to  him, 
what  matters  it  how  true  it  be  ?  The  theologian  tells  him 
that  the  limits  of  philosophical  inquiry  are  where  faith  be- 
gins, but  he  is  concerned  to  find  out  where  faith  does  begin, 
and  to  examine  what  sort  of  evidence  the  evidence  of  things 
unseen  is.  And  if  this  right  of  free  inquiry  be  denied  him, 
then  is  denied  him  the  right  to  doubt  what  any  visionary,  or 
fanatic,  or  madman,  or  impostor,  may  choose  to  proclaim  as  a 
revelation  from  the  spiritual  world. 

Toward  the  close  of  his  lecture  the  archbishop,  breaking 
out  into  peroration,  becomes  violently  contemptuous  of  the 
philosopher  who,  ^'  with  his  sensations  sorted  and  tied  up 
and  labelled  to  the  utmost,  might,"  he  thinks,  "chance  to 
find  himself  the  most  odious  and  ridiculous  being  in  all  the 
multiform  creation.  A  creature  so  glib,  so  wise,  so  full  of 
discourse,  sitting  in  the  midst  of  creation  with  all  its  mystery 
and  wonder,  and  persuading  you  that  he  is  the  master  of  its 
secrets,  and  that  there  is  nothing  but  w^hat  he  knows !  "  It 
is  not  very  difiScult  to  raise  a  laugh  by  drawing  a  caricature ; 
but  it  was  hardly,  perhaps,  worthy  the  lecturer,  the  subject, 
and  the  audience,  to  exhibit  on  such  an  occasion  an  archi- 
episcopal  talent  for  drawing  caricatures.  As  we  have  al- 
ready intimated,  this  philosopher,  "  so  glib,  so  wise,  so  full 
of  discourse,"  does  not  profess  to  know  nearly  so  much  of 
the  mystery  and  wonder  of  creation  as  the  archbishop  does. 
There  is  more  flourishing  language  of  the  same  sort  before 
the  discourse  ends,  but  it  would  be  unprofitable  to  transcribe 
or  criticise  it;  and  it  is  only  right  to  the  lecturer  to  say  that 


272  THE   LIMITS   OF 

ho  is  near  his  conclusion  when  he  works  himself  up  into  this 
vituperative  and  somewhat  hysterical  ecstasy.  The  follow- 
ing passage  may  be  quoted,  however,  as  instructive  in  more 
respects  than  one : 

"  The  world  offers  just  no"w  the  spectacle,  humiliating  to  us  in 
many  ways,  of  millions  of  people  clinging  to  their  old  idolatrous  reli- 
gions, and  refusing  to  change  them  even  for  a  higher  form  ;  while  in 
Christian  Europe  thousands  of  the  most  cultivated  class  are  beginning 
to  consider  atheism  a  permissible  or  even  a  desirable  thing.  The  very 
instincts  of  the  savage  rebuke  us.  But  just  when  we  seem  in  danger 
of  losing  all  may  come  the  moment  of  awakening  to  the  dangers  of 
our  loss.  A  world  where  thought  is  a  secretion  of  the  brain-gland — 
where  free  will  is  the  dream  of  a  madman  that  thinks  he  is  an  em- 
peror, though  naked  and  in  chains — where  God  is  not  or  at  least  not 
knowable,  such  is  not  the  world  as  we  have  learned  it,  on  which 
great  lives  have  been  lived  out,  great  self-sacrifices  dared,  great  piety 
and  devotion  have  been  bent  on  softening  the  sin,  the  ignorance,  and 
the  misery.  It  is  a  world  from  which  the  sun  is  withdrawn,  and  with 
it  all  light  and  life.  But  this  is  not  our  world  as  it  was,  not  the  world 
of  our  fathers.  To  live  is  to  think  and  to  will.  To  think  is  to  see 
the  chain  of  facts  in  creation,  and  passing  along  its  golden  links  to 
find  the  hand  of  God  at  its  beginning,  as  we  saw  His  handiwork  in  its 
course.  And  to  will  is  to  be  able  to  know  good  and  evil ;  and  to  will 
aright  is  to  submit  the  will  entirely  to  a  will  higher  than  ours.  So 
that  with  God  alone  can  we  find  true  knowledge  and  true  rest,  the 
vaunted  fruits  of  philosophy." 

Was  ever  before  such  a  terrible  indictment  against  Chris- 
tianity drawn  by  a  Christian  prelate?  Its  doctrines  have 
now  been  preached  for  nearly  two  thousand  years;  they 
have  had  the  aids  of  vast  armies,  of  incalculable  wealth,  of 
the  greatest  genius  and  eloquence  ;  they  are  embodied  in  the 
results  of  conquests,  in  the  sublimest  works  of  art,  in  some 
of  the  noblest  specimens  of  oratory,  in  the  very  organization 
of  modern  society ;  thousands  upon  thousands  have  died 
martyrs  to  their  faith  in  them,  and  thousands  more  have  been 
made  martyrs  for  want  of  faith  in  them;  they  have  been 
carried  to  the  darkest  places  of  the  earth  by  the  vehicles  of 
commerce,   have  been   proclaimed  by   the  messengers   and 


pniLosorniCAL  inquiry.  273 

backed  by  the  moral  power  of  a  higher  civilization;  they 
are  almost  identified  with  the  spirit  and  results  of  modern 
scientific  progress :  all  these  advantages  they  have  had, 
and  yet  the  archbishop  can  do  no  more  than  point  to  the 
spectacle  of  millions  of  people  clinging  to  their  old  idola- 
trous religions,  and  to  thousands  of  the  most  cultivated  class 
in  Christian  Europe  who  are  beginning  to  consider  atheism  a 
permissible  or  even  a  desirable  thing  1  "Whether  it  be  really 
true  that  so  many  of  the  cultivated  class  in  Europe  are 
gravitating  toward  atheism  we  cannot  say ;  but,  if  the  allega- 
tion be  true,  it  may  well  be  doubted  whether  an  appeal  to 
the  instincts  of  the  savage  who  persists  in  clinging  to  his 
idolatry  will  avail  to  convince  them  of  their  error.  It  is  not 
very  consistent  on  the  archbishop's  part  to  make  such  an  ap- 
peal, who  in  another  paragraph  of  his  lecture  emphatically 
enjoins  on  philosophy  not  to  banish  God,  freedom,  duty,  and 
immortality  from  the  field  of  its  inquiries,  adjuring  it  solemnly 
never  to  consent  to  abandon  these  highest  subjects  of  study. 
Another  comment  on  the  passage  above  quoted  which  sug- 
gests itself  is  that  men  have  undergone  great  self-sacrifices, 
sufierings,  and  death,  for  a  bad  cause  with  as  firm  and  cheer- 
ful a  resolution  as  good  men  have  for  the  best  cause ;  to  die 
for  a  faith  is  no  proof  whatever  of  the  truth  of  it,  nor  by 
any  means  always  the  best  service  which  a  man  may  render  it. 
Atheism  counts  its  martyrs  as  well  as  Christianity.  Jordano 
Bruno,  the  friend  of  Sir  Philip  Sidney,  was  condemned  for 
atheism,  sentenced  to  death,  and,  refusing  to  recant,  burned 
at  the  stake.  Yanini,  who  sufiered  death  as  an  atheist, 
might  have  been  pardoned  the  moment  before  his  execution 
if  he  would  have  retracted  his  doctrines ;  but  he  chose  to  be 
burned  to  ashes  rather  than  retract.  To  these  might  be 
added  others  who  bave  gone  through  much  persecution  and 
grievous  suffering  for  a  cause  which  the  Archbishop  of  York 
would  count  the  worst  for  which  a  man  could  suffer.  How 
many  Christians  of  one  sect  have  undergone  lingering  tor- 
tures and  cruel  deaths  at  the  hands  of  Christians  of  another 


274  THE  LIMITS  OF 

sect  for  the  sake  of  small  and  non-essential  points  of  doc- 
trine in  which  only  they  differed — for  points  at  issue  so  mi- 
nute as  to  "  be  scarcely  visible  to  the  nicest  theological  eye !  " 
Christianity  has  sometimes  been  a  terrible  war-cry,  and  it 
must  be  confessed  that  Christians  have  been  good  persecu- 
tors. When  the  passions  of  men  have  worked  a  faith  into 
enthusiasm,  they  will  suffer  and  die,  and  inflict  suffering  and 
death,  for  any  cause,  good  or  bad.  The  appeal  to  martyr- 
dom of  professors  is  therefore  of  small  worth  as  an  argu- 
ment fbr  the  truth  of  their  doctrine.  Pity  'tis  that  it  is  so, 
for,  if  it  were  otherwise,  if  self-sacrifice  in  a  cause  would  suf- 
fice to  establish  it,  what  a  noble  and  powerful  argument  in 
support  of  the  Christian  verities  might  archbishops  and  bish- 
ops offer,  in  these  sad  times  of  luxury  and  unbelief  when  so 
many  are  lapsing  into  atheism  ! 

But  we  must  bring  to  an  end  these  reflections,  which  are 
some  of  those  that  have  been  suggested  by  the  perusal  of  the 
archiepiscopal  address  on  the  "  Limits  of  Philosophical  In- 
quiry.'' Though  heavy  charges  are  laid  against  modern  sci- 
ence, they  are  made  in  a  thoughtless  rather  than  a  bitter 
spirit,  while  the  absence  of  bigotry  and  the  general  candor 
displayed  may  justify  a  hope  that  the  author  will,  on  reflec- 
tion, perceive  his  opinions  to  require  further  consideration, 
and  his  statements  to  be  too  indiscriminate  and  sweeping. 
On  the  whole  there  is,  we  think,  less  reason  to  apprehend 
harm  to  scientific  inquiry  from  this  discharge  of  the  arch- 
bishop's feelings,  than  to  apprehend  harm  to  those  who  are 
obstinately  defending  the  religious  position  against  the  attack 
which  is  thought  imminent.  For  he  has  used  his  friends 
badly :  he  has  exposed  their  entire  flank  to  the  enemy ; 
while  he  would  distinctly  have  philosophy  concern  itself 
with  the  highest  subjects — God,  freedom,  and  immortality — 
despising  a  philosophy  which  forbears  to  do  so,  and  pointing 
out  how  miserably  it  falls  short  of  its  highest  mission,  he 
warns  philosophy  in  the  same  breath  that  there  is  a  point  at 
which  its  teaching  ends. 


I 


PHILOSOPHICAL  INQUIRY.  275 

"  Philosophj,  while  she  is  teaching  morals  and  religion, 
will  soon  come  to  a  point  where  her  teaching  tends.  .  .  She 
will  send  her  scholars  to  seek  in  revelation  and  practical 
obedience  the  higher  culture  that  she  can  onlj  commence.'" 

The  pitj  of  the  matter  is,  that  we  are  not  furnished  with 
a  word  of  guidance  as  to  where  the  hitherto  and  no  farther 
point  is.  With  brave  and  flourishing  words  he  launches  the 
inquirer  on  a  wide  waste  of  waters,  but  without  a  rudder  to 
guide  him,  or  a  compass  to  steer  bj.  Is  he  to  go  on  so  long 
as  what  he  discovers  is  in  conformity  with  the  Gospel  accord- 
ing to  the  Thirty-nine  Articles,  but  furl-to  his  sails,  cease  his 
exertions,  and  go  down  on  his  knees,  the  moment  his  discov- 
eries clash  with  the  faith  according  to  the  Thirty-nine  Arti- 
cles ?  "What  guarantee  have  we  that  he  will  be  content  to 
do  so  ?  In  withholding  the  Scriptures  from  the  people,  and 
shutting  off  philosophy  entirely  from  the  things  that  belong 
to  faith,  the  Church  of  Rome  occupies  a  strong  and  almost 
impregnable  position  ;  for,  if  there  be  no  reading  there  will 
be  no  inquiry,  and  if  there  be  no  inquiry  there  will  be  no 
doubt,  and  if  there  be  no  doubt  there  will  be  no  disbelief. 
But  the  union  of  philosophical  inquiry  and  religious  faith  is 
not  a  natural  union  of  kinds ;  and  it  is  difficult  to  see  how 
the  product  of  it  can  be  much  different  from  the  hybrid 
products  of  other  unnatural  unions  of  different  kinds — can 
be  other  than  sterile,  when  it  is  not  monstrous. 


THE    END 


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